It's the end of the season, and something's going to get born.

I was an avid How I Met Your Mother fan in its early days. During the first three seasons, when it was firing on all cylinders, HIMYM was in the same league as the best modern television comedies. The cast was hungry for success and quickly displayed crackling chemistry. The writers displayed a firm grasp on 20-something professionals in New York City, the strength to bend time (by seconds or years) in the service of jokes as well as experimental narrative structures, and the dexterity to craft an original lexicon that is a worthy successor to Seinfeld. And the creators, Craig Thomas and Carter Bays, provided a premise that held everything together and worked forward momentum into the show’s DNA.

That premise has never been the main draw, but it’s an undeniable part of the show’s success. HIMYM had an identity (proclaimed in its title) and a long-term goal right from Day 1. Perhaps more importantly, HIMYM’s gimmick immediately established it as a story about more than just the day-to-day adventures of a group of friends. When sitcoms start introducing major life events like weddings, it’s often evidence of a desperate ratings grab or a lack of good ideas in the writers’ room. On HIMYM they’re woven into the fabric of the show. The passage of time is a given, and after traveling through the past, present and future with the characters, life-altering events feel earned and significant. At the very least, they are mile markers on the road to the show’s ultimate destination. The mystery of who the mother’s identity is secondary to the identity and scope the premise brings, but even the mystery was fun back when it was fresh and when every new face seemed like a possible future Mrs. Mosby.

There have been plenty of rough spots after those first 3 seasons, and my viewing has grown extremely infrequent. The comedy isn’t as sharp, the inherent momentum often grinds to a halt or veers dangerously off course, and the mystery has been reduced to a convoluted game of Guess Who? which is pretty much guaranteed to only be resolved in the show’s final episode, if not final scene. Astute viewers and internet debaters have already used the process of elimination to narrow it down to one incredibly likely candidate (they make a strong case).

The few episodes of HIMYM that I watch each season are bittersweet experiences. They’re usually entertaining, thanks to a still game cast, but mostly I’m reminded of how good it used to be. But much of what I loved about those early seasons was on full display in Season 7’s two-part finale, which delivered major life events, plenty of laughs, callbacks to earlier episodes and seasons, drunken antics, Legend of Zelda footage, a martial arts monkey and, shockingly, a new use for “Wait for it.”

The first episode revolved around Lily going into labor and eventually giving birth to her and Marshall’s son. During her painful contractions, she forced Ted and Robin to distract her with stories. It’s a classic HIMYM framing device that allows for rapid fire bits that jump all over the place, occasionally colliding with each other, including a clever riff on the perpetually unseen wall of sitcom sets. The birth is secondary to these tales, keeping the gang at the forefront and never sacrificing HIMYM’s trademarks for the sake of event television.

It’s one of the most enjoyable birth episodes I can think of (I can’t think of many I’ve liked at all right now), but there are some problems. Namely that Marshall is in Atlantic City when Lily goes into labor because he was too stressed out with the birth so close at hand. This was covered in the previous episode, so I don’t know how it was handled, but it seems out of character for both Marshall and Lily. Also, Robin treating in-labor Lily like a farm animal, and Lily eventually responding in kind, was too reminiscent of the disastrous “pregnancy brain” plot from this season’s Halloween episode, though admittedly much funnier.

Part 2 was a bit weaker. Ted, in typical Ted fashion, stews on his lack of progress in the finding a wife department. A pep talk from Robin assures me that I haven’t missed too much in the master plot. Her list of Ted’s meaningful relationships is Victoria (saw it), herself (saw it), Stella (saw it) and Zoey (saw enough to get the idea). Ultimately, Robin convinces Ted that he should be chasing after Victoria, even though she is engaged and rejected him the last time they saw each other. The lack of important relationships in the show’s recent season, and the frequency or relapses with this small group, is evidence of how thin Ted’s search has been stretched. Fortunately, the whole episode is completely redeemed by Barney proposing to his girlfriend by way of an overly elaborate magic trick. In a TSA holding room. It’s brilliant.

In the final moments of Season 7, we learn that the bride at Barney’s wedding that we’ve been seeing bits of for the last few seasons is actually not his new fiancé, but Robin Scherbatsky. It’s predictable, but there’s something satisfying about another piece of the puzzle finally being locked irrevocably into place. Even more satisfying was Ted choosing to run off with an on-her-way-to-the-altar Victoria. Not because I’m excited by the long term prospects of this relationship; all of Ted’s former girlfriends are officially lame ducks. But rather because the decision involved a montage of 6-year old Victoria clips and a healthy dose of Cat Stevens. The writers are simply playing those of us who remember Victoria and that first season fondly, but I was happy to be reminded of how this show’s impressive ability to craft poignant moments in the midst of its unapologetic sappiness.

HIMYM will probably never be as good as it was in those early seasons. And it will definitely not end as strongly as it could have. Eight (or nine?) seasons is too long for this story. Every character’s arc has been watered down by too many stalls and reversals ensuring they don’t reach their destination too quickly. My expectations have been severely lowered over the last few years, but if HIMYM can bring this level of quality to its final season (or two?), it won’t matter to me that much that the show took some wrong turns along the way and rolled across the finish line in third gear. I am now determined to be there for the series finale, and I might even watch all of the next season (or two?).

Wait for it...

From the Edith Ann collection.

Jeremiah is stretched out watching his bootleg Cowboys of Moo Mesa DVDs when Jeff enters the office lounge.

Jeff Hart:  Are you ready to do this Dictator review? It comes out today.

Jeremiah White:  Ha! A movie opening on Wednesday… before a non-holiday weekend. That is rich.

Jeff Hart:  No, I’m serious. It’s playing right now. People without jobs are probably already at the theater.

Jeremiah sits up, spilling a large bag of Combos all over the floor.

Jeremiah White:  Why, in the name of procrastination, would The Dictator open on Wednesday?

Jeff Hart:  Isn’t it obvious?

Jeremiah White:  No.

Jeff Hart:  Sacha Baron Cohen is looking to topple The Avengers.

Jeremiah White:  That’s ridiculous.

Jeff Hart:  The Hangovers have proven that there is still big money in R-rated comedies.

Jeremiah White:  You’re right. Hangover 2 was last summer’s box office champ, wasn’t it?

No.

Jeff Hart:  Enough stalling. You saw the movie, right? Get on with it.

Jeremiah White:  Well, it’s not very good. It’s painfully generic by Baron Cohen’s standards. It levels its aim on glossy Hollywood comedies as much as megalomaniacal dictators, but rarely hits either target. The Dictator trots out plot contrivances and images coopted from recent political upheavals with a minimum of commentary.

Jeff Hart:  Generic isn’t really SBC’s style. How does this Aladeen character compare to his others?

Jeremiah White:  Well, I don’t think he’s going to generate any catchphrases, that’s for sure.

Jeff Hart:  My wife!

Jeremiah White:  The Dictator reduces a promising and timely comic character to a pompous imbecile. All of Baron Cohen's characters are a bit ignorant and oblivious, but Aladeen takes it to unfunny extremes.

Jeff Hart:  Well that sounds absolutely terrible. The premise seems custom made for SBC's brand of satire. What went wrong?

Jeremiah White:  All the meaningful commentary is crammed into a third act monologue, which only emphasizes how narrow-minded the rest of the movie is. Baron Cohen spends most of the movie running around with an organic grocer going for cheap laughs, but in just a few minutes contrasts Aladeen's tyranny with a laundry list of problems in the US. It's an inspired moment that begs for expansion. Unfortunately, it comes in the closing moments.

Jeff Hart:  Is it even funny?

Jeremiah White:  There are laughs to be had, but probably just as many complete misses. There's way too many lame fish-out-of-water jokes, too many crass, un-PC jokes just for the sake of shock, and the script has a bad habit of running jokes into the ground, including those that weren't funny in the first place.

Jeff Hart:  How’s the rest of the cast?

Jeremiah White:  It’s loaded with underappreciated C and D listers: Anna Faris, Gary Shandling, Chris Elliott, Fred Armisen, J.B. Smoove, Kevin Corrigan, Chris Parnell. Most of them barely make an impression before they’re gone. There is one notable exception though.

Jeff Hart:  Oh yeah?

Jeremiah White:  Calling all Bobby Lee superfans!

Jeff Hart:  Present!

Jeremiah White:  You should see this movie. He’s hilarious as a Chinese businessman, and probably has more lines than any character other than Aladeen, Aladeen’s love interest, Aladeen’s friend, Aladeen’s nemesis and Aladeen’s replacement.

Jeff Hart:  Sold! I’m going to buy my ticket now.

Jeremiah White:  Just don’t expect it to be a shared experience. Baron Cohen’s two previous films, Borat and Bruno, both achieved a certain water cooler status (even if Bruno’s was mostly due to external factors like Borat’s cultural impact and Michael Jackson’s death). Those “how scripted is this?” mockumentaries harnessed a freewheeling mania that created an atmosphere of danger and unpredictability. That's completely missing from the rigidly constructed world of The Dictator. Baron Cohen’s outrageous statements just don’t have the same impact when they’re delivered to other actors, to characters that ultimately have to accept Aladeen because the script demands tidy endings. Nobody but Sacha Baron Cohen could have made Borat or Bruno. Almost anyone could have made The Dictator.

Nooooooooo!

The premise of Once Upon a Time is that the fairy tale characters from the Enchanted Forest have been transported to the real world, where there are no happy endings, by the Evil Queen. Trapped in the town of Storybrooke by the Queen’s curse, they have no memory of their former lives. Killing off a child, and prominent character, is a great way to sell that “no happy endings” idea. There aren’t many endings more unhappy than the death of a child. Plus, it’s a convenient way to get rid of a child actor, who pretty much all suck with the exception of David Dorfman. It might be morbid and callous, but I was psyched when Henry Mills flatlined in his hospital bed during the OUAT season finale.

And considerably less excited when true love, “the most powerful magic in the world,” woke his dumb ass up again.

It wasn’t a total loss. When Henry’s biological mother revived him with a kiss (gross!), the ensuing shockwave caused the inhabitants of Storybrooke to remember the Enchanted Forest. It’s actually a plot development that makes Henry even more expendable, as his significance was primarily derived from his  belief in the curse and his ability to dole out backstory based on his storybook, but I’m sure he’ll become the Chosen One or something soon enough. That worked out so well for Walt.

Waaaalt!

Speaking of Lost, Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz clearly called upon their former gig as Lost writers when it came time to close out the first season of Once Upon. In addition to everyone getting their memories back, Rumplestiltskin releases a purple cloud, which we are told is magic, that looms over Storybrooke as the season ends. Memories and magic, coming to Storybrooke Fall 2012! One of Lost’s specialties was drastically altering the landscape from season to season without needing to demolish or rebuild. Kitsis and Horowitz have nailed that, in theory at least. Season 2 looks promising, but nothing in the finale made me kick myself for missing all of Season 1.

The ominous cloud was a nice visual, but lacked the kick of Lost’s best season/episode closers. And the restoration of Storybrooke’s memory failed to convey the scope of such an important event, only checking in with a few characters who had been featured heavily in the episode up to that point. Isn’t this town filled with fairy tale characters? How did the rest of them react to waking up from the Matrix? I guess we’ll have to wait until the first 6 episodes of Season 2 to find out.

I’m curious about what will happen next, but I doubt tuning in come September will yield satisfying rewards right away. The characters will surely take a while to tap in to their memories and magic. From my removed vantage point, the master plot has moved at a glacial pace so far while week to week the show is caught up in modern spins on familiar fairy tales and pursuing dead-end plots (like the big murder investigation, where no one had actually been murdered).

Once Upon doesn’t execute well enough to make regular viewing enticing. The dialogue is bland. The acting is too restrained for such silly subject matter (except for Robert Carlyle’s excellent turn as Rumplestiltskin). The finale’s centerpiece is a pair of dragon fights - a flashback to Prince Charming planting an egg of magic potion inside Maleficent intercut with his daughter retrieving it in Storybrooke. It’s a neat idea and the dragon effects were surprisingly decent, but the battles lack excitement and tension. They’re amusing but not engaging.

After watching the season premiere, Jeff Hart asked “What, exactly, are the stakes?” After watching the season finale almost 7 months later, I’m still not sure. I’m totally down for some magic fights, but why should I care? Because fairy tale characters have been exiled to the dreary world I live in? Is the Enchanted Forest even all that much better? There is, after all, an evil queen. Here, she’s just the mayor of a sleepy little New England town that no one can leave. She can’t do much damage there. It seems like a net gain for the universe as a whole. Maybe we’re all better off.

The finale’s most interesting characters are those who already remembered the Forest: the Evil Queen (who possesses more depth than a character named the Evil Queen has any right to) and Rumplestiltskin. Things should improve with more Storybrooke residents joining their ranks. Lost had a lot of fun pitting characters who desperately wanted off the island against those who were in no hurry to get back to lives they had made ghastly messes of. In its second season, Once Upon will have a similar opportunity. Now that the characters know they are out of place, they’ll be able to take a more active role in their story, weighing the Enchanted Forest against Storybrooke. They can try to return home or fight to make their own happy endings here. Maybe Once Upon can actually wring a worthwhile conclusion from that decision, unlike Lost (yeah, I'm still bitter).

This week we’re watching Blood and Bone. Michael Jai White stars in a direct-to-video underground fighting flick that probably qualifies as a loose remake of Lionheart.

Next week:  Don't Be Afraid of the Dark. Guillermo del Toro cowrote this creature feature starring Katie Holmes and Guy Pearce.

"I want you to tell every motherfucker behind these bars that if they get the notion to fuck with me - don't."

Blood and Bone: so bad it’s good or so bad it’s really bad?

Jeff Hart:  As someone that really enjoys braindead 90s era fight flicks, particularly anything starring Jean-Claude Van Damme, this is an easy answer for me. Blood and Bone is so bad it’s good. But, not that good. So bad it’s mediocre? It’s a B-movie through and through, operating from a script that would seem unrealistic in a side-scrolling Sega Genesis beat ‘em up. It’s a celebration of campy, over-the-top acting featuring some slumming thespians (Eammon Walker, what’re you doing here?) and a stable of familiar MMA faces incapable of anything beyond punching. Bob Sapp really commits to his role as a juiced up brawler that makes a lot of funny baby noises (I’m being sincere). The film doesn’t take itself at all seriously, which is definitely a good thing.

Jeremiah White:  My only problem with the “so bad it’s good” label in this case is that Blood and Bone doesn’t take itself seriously, but it’s still packed with groan-worthy moments. It’s stuck in a very uncomfortable middle ground – not quite earnest action movie, not quite parody. If it did take itself more seriously, it would be worse, which in a “so bad it’s good” situation would actually be better. Right? If it committed to being a parody, it might actually be good for real, like Michael Jai White’s blaxploitation satire Black Dynamite, released a few months after Blood and Bone. Still, White and Walker are a lively good guy/bad guy pair, and the action is good. If that’s not enough for you, there’s an awesome part at the end where Michael Jai White wins the final fight and then jumps over a knee-high fence and just disappears into the night. It’s hilarious.

How are the fight scenes?

Jeff Hart:  Michael Jai White as Bone is a total badass. It’s fun to see him go up against some familiar MMA faces like Sapp and Kimbo Slice. Bone is maybe a bit too badass, though – there’s never much threat of him losing or being in any danger or expressing an emotion. Additionally, “director” Ben Ramsey adds an annoying stylistic touch with victim-cam; basically a POV shot from the perspective of someone getting their face punched repeatedly. Not a great choice, but otherwise the fights are pretty fun.

Jeremiah White:  My biggest complaint about the action is that there isn’t enough. As Jeff mentions, most of the fights don’t last long. The only time Bone really exerts himself other than the final fight is in a match with a submission specialist, which occurs during a training montage. Not exactly prime placement. Bone’s blowouts still tell a better story than many modern fight scenes, with him isolating a weakness while watching his opponent warm up, and then quickly and easily exploiting it. When Blood and Bone finally commits to a fight, the final battle with Pretty Boy Price, it’s excellent. Blood and Bone doesn’t revolutionize fight scenes, but it offers some high quality martial arts action.

Bred and El Gado from Final Fight would have stood a better chance than some of these clowns.

Will anyone ever give Michael Jai White a shot at a mainstream action franchise?

Jeff Hart:  Someone definitely should; he’s got the action acumen and a sense of humor. I think the folks behind Blood and Bone had franchise-sized ambition. We never find out why Bone was in prison, who killed his twin brother, or really anything substantive about his life. That’s a lot of sequel material! Hopefully White is off the B-movie circuit starring as Luke Cage before Ramsey can scrape together the $5K he needs to make another Bone flick.

Jeremiah White:  I had Luke Cage on the mind as well. That seems like an ideal mainstream vehicle for White, but he’s not the only one who should be moving on to bigger things. Ever since watching Oz I’ve wanted to see Eamonn Walker play some sort of over-the-top bad guy, like a Bond villain or something. The intelligent, disciplined and ambitious gangster he plays here is a great audition for a “diabolical mastermind” role. With any luck some hotshot studio exec will stumble across Blood and Bone on Netflix Instant soon.

In Memoriam:

Adam Yauch 1964 - 2012

RIP: There is a certain part of the human condition that makes one yearn to be a part of something bigger than oneself. This yearning manifests itself in a multitude of ways: patriotism, religion, fandom, those annoying people who are way too into their alma mater... I am not sure what proportional relationship this yearning has to one’s age, but I do know one thing: when you’re a kid, it consumes you.

When I was in middle school I was desperate to find something I could belong to. I chose my sports affiliations, my fashion sense, and most importantly, my music. Each of these choices was pivotal in its own way, as they were the first steps to satisfying my yearning. I recall coming home from school one afternoon and opening the door of my aunt’s house to find my cousin sitting on the couch as he did every day, hogging the television. He, being a teenager (with a girlfriend and everything), hated me at this point in my development because I had yet to prove either my coolness or my worth to him. My cousin was watching MTV (it was what you did before the Internet), and the video playing was So Whatcha’ Want by the Beastie Boys. I vividly remember standing there silently, my cousin and I staring at each other with contempt. He expected me to whine, and beg him to let me watch Darkwing Duck, while I expected him to snicker and say something cruel about the way I was dressed. Instead, I bobbed my head and grooved to the monstrously huge bass drum which supports the track, and my cousin smiled. He even nodded his head and, in that moment, looked at me differently for the first time. The Beastie Boys gave me acceptance.

As we all know by now, Adam Yauch lost his three year battle with cancer last Friday, and Brooklyn lost one of its favorite sons. In the week that has followed Yauch’s death, all manner of tributes and eulogies have been written in honor of his life. This is merely one more.

The Beastie Boys existed somewhat like an urban legend throughout a great deal of my life. Every group of friends I came across in the streets of Brooklyn as a youth in the early 90s had a brother, cousin or other vague acquaintance who “went to school with,” “got high with,” or “played basketball with” one or all of the Beastie Boys. It goes without saying that not a single one of these people were ever telling the truth, but you always believed them, partially because of the naivete of youth, and partially because your heart believed it could be possible. After all, it was Yauch himself who stated: “I got a castle in Brooklyn, that’s where I dwell.”

Musketeerin'

MCA wore many hats within the Beastie Boys. He directed many of their videos under the pseudonym Nathaniel Hornblower. By many accounts he was the most talented instrumentalist and most dexterous rapper. Over time he became the band’s spiritual center. He picked up the bass while attending Edward R. Murrow High School and decided to form a band for his 17th birthday. That band went on to be one of the most important and influential rap groups of all time. The Beastie Boys would go on to release the first hip-hop album to ever top the Billboard Top 200, as well as three other number one albums which, along with the rest of their catalog, would go on to sell over forty million records around the world. Over the course of his 25 year career in music, Yauch won every award imaginable as a member of the Beastie Boys; he (in the immortal words of Billy Joel) played all kinds of palaces, and (in the words of Bon Jovi) saw a million faces and rocked them all.

In the early stages of his career Yauch, like his friends/brothers/bandmates, wrote material that was distinctly juvenile and misogynistic in its lyrical content. As the Beastie Boys matured they realized the error of their ways and began to spread a different, more positive, inclusive, and accepting message to their listeners. It is the opinion of most music historians that Yauch, and his conversion to Buddhism, was responsible for spearheading this movement and the subsequent philosophical changes within the band.

Farewell.

Yauch’s new found spirituality was the force that governed the latter half of his life as he became an important voice for the Tibetan Independence Movement. He founded the Milarepa Fund, a non-profit organization which promotes awareness and activism regarding the injustices native Tibetans endure at the hands of the Chinese occupational government and military forces. It was Yauch’s work with Milarepa which brought us the Tibetan Freedom Festival concert series, as well as the New Yorkers Against Violence benefit which raised money for various chairites in the wake of 9/11.

Most recently Yauch was pursuing his passion for filmmaking, which he developed shooting the band’s videos. In 2008 he made his directorial debut with the basketball documentary Gunnin’ For That #1 Spot, and had since became a major independent film distributor, with his production house handling movies like Exit Through The Gift Shop and the upcoming LCD Soundsystem documentary Shut Up And Play The Hits.

When weighing the magnitude of the loss of MCA, it is important to make sure you have it all in perspective. Not only did the world lose an artist who brought as much to the table with his craft as he did with his heart and soul, we lost a man who wanted to help make the world a better place. Truly, we lost The Beastie Boys last Friday, because neither Mike D., Ad Rock, or anyone associated with the band will ever be the same. Those absences will be felt for a long time, not just by fans around the world, but by music itself.

Adam Yauch is survived by his wife, Dechen Wangdu, his daughter Tenzin Losel, his parents, Frances and Noah Yauch, and by his best friends.

Review:

Siamese Dream (Remaster) - The Smashing Pumpkins

Loveless (Remaster) - My Bloody Valentine

When I was finished listening to the latest version of these two records I love above all others, I was overcome with emotions. For the most part I appreciate what has become of them, but the change has brought with it a strange sense of loss. It sort of gave me the same feeling I get when I walk down a street I've known since my childhood: the shops have changed, my friends have moved, but the street still remains. Some might call that progress, but I suppose it's all a matter of perspective... [Full Review]

16th Notes:

Can Canadian cops pull over and search a train?

You can now count me among the ranks of those who will be missing Bjork this year because of an inflamed vocal cord nodule. The Icelandic singer has announced a slew of festival cancellations, including (sigh) Primavera Sound... In other concert cancellation news, Death Grips have pulled the plug on all of their upcoming Summer tour dates so they can go back into the studio and work on a new record. In the interest of continuing to make this about me I would like to point out that this means Death Grips will not be playing NXNE - but that’s okay, I’ll be seeing Radiohead in Canada... According to Spin, M.I.A is in the process of finishing up her next record which is tentatively titled Matangi (a play on her birth name Mathangi). It must be hard to find time to complete an album when you are so busy designing beer bottle labels for Beck’s... Skrillex, Diplo, and Grimes (along with a couple of other acts) have joined forces to tour across Canada this July and they will all be traveling by train. For some reason I want to blame this all on Grimes, because a train seems like a logical leap from a houseboat to me... Once again Azealia Banks has promised that her highly anticipated debut EP will be out soon, but she also teased (via Twitter) that we could also see a mixtape and a full-length before the end of the year. Let’s just focus on getting one record out on the street at this point... Andre 3000 is set to star as Jimi Hendrix in an upcoming biopic about the legendary guitarist and, as usual, Hendrix’s estate is not okay with it, and therefore will not allow any of his music to appear in the film. Be prepared to hear Hey Joe and Wild Thing a whole hell of a lot, ‘cause Jimi didn’t write those tunes... Are you a hungry up-and-coming rapper who spits hot fire? Would you like a chance to open up for Drake on his 2012 tour? Well then you are in luck, because Drizzy has teamed up with OurStage.com and Real Hip Hop Network for a contest that will change one aspiring emcee's life. All you have to do is submit an entry of yourself and your best original song to this website by Tuesday and hope that the fans voting online, and more importantly Drake, like it! The winner will be chosen from among all the various entries, and will have the opportunity to open for Drake on 20 nights, plus they get their own tour bus! You better act fast if you don’t want to miss your chance... I am so mad that I can’t rap...

Top Twenty List:

I don’t think I need to explain what inspired this list of the 20 best Beastie Boys songs of all time, do I?

20) Girls
19) Too Many Rappers
18) Slow And Low
17) An Open Letter To NYC
16) Alive
15) Remote Control
14) No Sleep Till Brooklyn
13) Fight For Your Right
12) Pass The Mic
11) Body Movin’
10) Root Down
9) Shadrach
8) Shake Your
7) Brass Monkey
6) Hey Ladies
5) Sure Shot
4) Intergalactic
3) Paul Revere
2) So Watcha Want?
1) Sabotage

Clips Of The Week:

I know I promised that I wouldn’t do music videos in the Clip Of The Week segment, but c’mon man. Let a dude say his goodbyes.

Click here to view the video on YouTube.

Click here to view the video on YouTube.

Click here to view the video on YouTube.

Tracks Of The Week:

Honeycomb & Gotham - Animal Collective: The world’s hippest young people were overcome with joy when, last Sunday night, Animal Collective released new music.  Their ecstasy could be felt from Bushwick (Williamsburg is so over, man) all the way to whatever California neighborhood has replaced Silver Lake as the “epicenter of cool” (I don’t live out there, so I don’t know), and is still reverberating on message boards throughout the web. The two new songs posted on the band’s website could not be more different from each other. Honeycomb is a kaleidoscopic tune, with an almost carnival-like feel, that’s vaguely reminiscent of the band’s work on Strawberry Jam. It is to the point, gratifying, and a great deal of fun. Gotham is much more of a journey; as the song develops, the band paints with various shades of gray, creating a dense and and dark atmosphere, but its latter third morphs into something more corporeal and uplifting. Both these tracks are available now digitally and will also be released as a 7” on June 26th.

Don't make that face at me.

My preferred version of Zooey Deschanel came on Weeds back in that show’s brief heyday. She played Andy Botwin’s ex-girlfriend Kat with her usual wide-eyed free spirit charm, with the added edge of a sociopath that would stab someone for stepping on her spirit animal. If anything, her willingness to kidnap made the cutesy bullshit more believable. I enjoyed The Zooey back in those days, before art merged with life and America’s hipster sweetheart was created, a banjo-thrumming Twitter monster that inflicted “adorkable” on our country. Now, every time she starts her one-woman dance party with her BFF Suri, I feel like burying my face in a pot of hotspatcho.

I can’t be alone in suffering from Zooey Fatigue. And yet, New Girl has turned into something of a sleeper hit for FOX. It manages to retain almost all of Glee’s viewers, despite having a target demo that is certainly more prone to DVR. Tuesday’s finale beat out the Dancing with the Stars results show. Does that still count for anything?

New Girl’s finale is one ukulele solo short of being a perfect highlight reel of The Zooey’s most annoying trademarks. She wears huge pajamas and dances goofily. She aims those beautiful eyes at the camera and scrunches up her face – The Zooey confused about feelings! She reacts in an adorkably inappropriate way to a bizarre situation, scaring off a snarling coyote by pulling up the furry hood of her park and “becoming the coyote.” It gives her a chance to howl.

And you know what? Annoying as it sounds when broken down on The Zooey checklist, it all pretty much works. Like every random episode of New Girl that I’ve caught over its first season, the finale is charming and laugh out loud funny. The ensemble works well together, giving off that vibe of a group of actors that really like being around each other (which means The Zooey must not be nearly as intolerable in person as her Twitter would indicate). Working particularly hard in the finale is Schmidt (Max Greenfield) whose B-story “White Fanging” of his girlfriend Cece (Hannah Simone) provides the most consistent laughs.

The A-story is the classic threat of sitcom shake-up. Nick (Jake Johnson) is planning to move out of the apartment that binds the whole show together to move in with his on-again-off-again girlfriend, much to the chagrin of Jess (The Zooey, adoy). Nick and Jess have some moments – including fighting off that coyote with road runner noises – that just beg for Cosmo Kramer to burst in shouting “would you two just admit that you’re in love with each other!” Save that for season two, I guess.

Anyway, of course Nick doesn’t move out. Weirdo new roommate Thomas Lennon (funny and creepy, as usual) is booted out in the middle of the night. The status quo is restored. Everyone dances.

It isn’t groundbreaking material – there’s no paintball fights or alternate timelines, which is why I don’t tune in every week – but it doesn’t have to be. New Girl is funny. Although, all the characters do seem prone to irrational screaming breakdowns that seem more geared to wringing cheap laughs than staying true to character. It’s particularly egregious with Winston (Lamorne Morris) who the writers have nothing for, except a silly afraid of the dark bit that culminates with him fleeing into the desert to pee literally all over himself. New Girl is better when it’s focused on banter and one-liners.

So New Girl wraps up its first season and its one I’m looking forward to breezing through in late night syndication. With the status quo predictably restored, where does the show go from here? She’s not exactly the new girl anymore, is she? Will the show transition to Same Girl in its second season? Old Girl in its third? And isn’t that new-same-old trajectory a perfect mirror for the freshness and tolerability of The Zooey’s persona? I’m looking forward to the Ugh, That Girl season.

It's like... a metaphor, or something.

As I approach what some would consider an “important” birthday I’ve discovered something rather unflattering about my psyche... I’m kind of obsessed with death. To be clear, I’m not fixated in some kind of macabre “goth” way, I’m just constantly worried, considering, and horrified by the inevitability of my own passing. I’m pretty sure I’ve always been this way but, as that birthday looms on the horizon, I feel like my fears are approaching their apex. It doesn’t help that the world insists on reminding me about the ephemeral nature of mortality and fleeting quality of our days.

(I know this is all starting off a bit depressing but give it another paragraph or so and things will get sunnier.)

One of my various duties within the pages of Clef Notes is to sum up a fallen artist’s life and musical contributions in a tidy and touching manner. I feel like I’ve been writing more epitaphs than usual lately. A part of me wants to blame the Mayans. I've started my piece for MCA but have yet to finish it because, well, it is a little hard for me to believe he’s dead (way too young). Every time I write a piece in memoriam it obviously feeds my death obsession, but the most recent events fueling my fire of morbidity have nothing to do with anyone’s passing.

Yesterday I listened to the Loveless remaster a mere week after allowing myself to listen to the remastered version of Siamese Dream (I know it’s been out for a while, but it was hard for me to muster the desire), and although they were both glorious, they also left me quite bummed.

Anyone who has read my work through the years may already be aware of a few facts: I worship The Beatles, I believe no one made better records from 1968-1973 than The Rolling Stones, Billy Corgan was my first musical hero, and Loveless is the record I’ve listened to the most in my entire life. Bearing some of that in mind, when I first learned both Siamese Dream (along with Gish), and Loveless (along with Isn’t Anything, and various EPs from the My Bloody Valentine catalog) were being remastered in the super deluxe way all classics seem to be remastered these days, my heart was confused.

There was definitely a part of me which was thrilled by the prospects of these remasters; after all, Billy Corgan and Kevin Shields are as obsessed with audio as I apparently am with death. If there were ever two men made for the act of sitting behind a mixing board and combing over every second/frequency of their music in order to give it a new gloss, it was these two Fender-slinging guitar heroes. On the other hand, I really didn’t need these reminders of the sand falling through my hourglass. These records were once on the sharpest cutting edge, the sound of the future. Now these remasters have been released and, as I said before, they are great, but they also feel like echoes of the past.

***

Siamese Dream is the record I would like played to get me out of a coma should the need arise. It’s always a strange experience to listen to a reissue of a record you have heard over a thousand times, and this particular instance seemed even odder than others. Jimmy Chamberlain’s opening snare roll, followed by his bass drum, still kicks off the record as they always have, but because of the marvels of modern technology, it all sounds a little different. Your mind tries for a second to compare it to the original clip of the same drum roll that's stored in your memory banks, but before you can, Corgan's glassy E octave chord cuts through the mix. As the bass and phasers enter you can totally sense the difference; the song you know by heart is different now, while still basically the same (much like you have become, over the last ten years), and 22 seconds into Cherub Rock its most important feature is revealed. I can’t tell you how long I’ve spent fantasizing about the sound of a Big Muff Pi roaring through a Marshall JCM 800; it’s the sound of a jet taking off and flying away faster, and further, than you would dream. On the Siamese Dream remaster that jet has turned into a spaceship. Take the intro to Today, for example: over the first eleven seconds Corgan plays his iconic childhood-channelling opening figure, setting the stage and voicing the tonic, before a D#/A# that can shatter worlds obliterates all of the silence in existence.

It’s easy to see that Corgan put a monstrous amount of effort into remastering this record. This modern version glows, rumbles, and kills, just like you remember, but it does so with a slick and shiny digital coat. This is without question one of the best remastering jobs I've ever heard in my life. Also, I am now of the opinion that Corgan should be hired by other artists to do their mastering jobs... this could be a new career opportunity for him.

Thankfully for all Smashing Pumpkins fans, Corgan did not stop at merely spiffing up Siamese Dream, he also unearthed some previously unreleased material and packaged 18 tracks onto a bonus disc (Lollipop Fun Time).There are some real treasures on the bonus disc, ranging from incredible demo versions of songs like Rocket and Luna, to acoustic mixes of Spaceboy and Disarm, and “never before heard” cuts like Pissant, U.S.A (fantastic!!!), and U.S.S.R. As you may have surmised by now, the Siamese Dream remaster is a release of unrivaled awesome. I was an idiot for not listening to it, and loving it, since the day it dropped.

***

Because my time with the Siamese Dream remaster went so well, I managed to come into the Loveless listening experience with a positive attitude. To tell the truth, there was actually some giddiness coursing through me as I sat down to hear it for the first time. Here I was, being given the chance to re-explore the two most important records of my life all in one week! Before I even pressed play on Loveless my mind went back to my teenage days, when I would ride my BMX bike to my lady’s house while blasting this album on my mini-disc player (it skipped less than a discman), wishing I could somehow actually get lost in its sonic depths. My mind also took me back to the living room of my first apartment, where my then-roommate, and now former friend, would sit with notepads and pens trying to figure out what the lyrics of this record were, and how to reverse-engineer the sound we were hearing, and being destroyed by. Eventually I stopped daydreaming and managed to press play.

Loveless, like Siamese Dream, starts off with some snare drum hits (which is pretty interesting, considering both of these records are legendary for their guitar work). Let me take a moment here to address the plagiarism claims that many fans of MBV have made about Siamese Dream. Yes, Loveless came out a couple of years before Siamese Dream, and, yes, Corgan was obviously inspired enough by the record to co-opt a lot of its aesthetics, but that kind of reinterpretation has existed since the dawn of music (i.e. it was all stolen from Bach). In short: these are two different records. Get over it.

The remastering job that was done on Loveless from its original master tapes is a surprisingly subtle one. There is an extra layer of definition to the harmonic distortion that engulfs the album, a bit more space in the mix, and an added dimension to the proceedings, but it’s not quite the overhaul that was done on Siamese Dream. I listened to the entire disc and it brought back many, if not all, of the greatest memories I have associated with both the music, and the time in my life that I spent listening to it (songs are like smells that way) - but I wanted more. So, I broke the seal on the other iteration of Loveless’ recent remastering, the one made from the original ½ inch analog tapes, and I found what I was looking for.

There is an audible warmth on the analog remaster that had honestly been missing from Loveless for all of these years. This warmth is best represented in the added impact of the record’s bottom end. The welcome change is audible from the very first explosion of awe-inspiring cacophony found on Only Shallow, and continues on through each brain-melting second of this record, with its major highlights being tracks like I Only Said (my favorite biking song from that bygone era), Sometimes (which now sounds like mountains crumbling in slow motion), and What You Want (which now feels like you are listening to the speed of light). For those of you who are looking for a transformation that will leave you breathless, just go straight to the analog remaster.

***

When I was finished listening to the latest version of these two records I love above all others, I was overcome with a mix of emotions. I sat in front of a blank computer screen and wondered how I would be able to articulate what I felt, coming to terms with the concept that the timeless art of my memories had been altered by progress - all for the sake of nostalgia and profit. For the most part I appreciate what has become of them, but the change has brought with it a strange sense of loss. It sort of gave me the same feeling I get when I walk down a street I've known since my childhood: the shops have changed, my friends have moved, but the street still remains. Some might call that progress, but I suppose it's all a matter of perspective.

I was often distracted by their large coffee cups.

Viewed from afar, Castle has always seemed like a fun police procedural. I say “from afar” because I have actually watched very little Castle. Just bits and pieces, really. But the show that used the "police officer partners with civilian expert" premise to get a detective and a mystery novelist together can't take itself too seriously, right? A perusal of episode descriptions backs this up. Cases often involve some sort of supernatural theme (vampires, mummies, psychics) or some aspect of the entertainment industry to riff on (reality competitions, movies based on the main character’s books). In a TV landscape filled with police procedurals, Castle has established an identity even with non-viewers like myself based on its sense of humor and the charisma of star Nathan Fillion.

Which is why I was surprised when last night’s Season 4 finale turned out to be overly serious and painfully generic. A joyless cop show completely devoid of personality. This is partially just bad timing - last week’s episode involved zombies and Fillion’s Castle going out of his way to ruffle the feathers of his straight-laced partner/muse/crush Beckett – but why do they put their worst foot forward in the finale?

A little research beforehand prepared me for a zombie-less episode that furthered two of Castle’s ongoing plots: the standard “will they or won’t they” romance, and the investigation into a conspiracy that claimed the life of Beckett's mother (years before the show started) and boss, and put a bullet in the chest in last year's finale.

That research turned out to be a blessing. Anyone who has watched any television ever will have no trouble sussing out the subtle nuances of the romance, but the conspiracy is a whole different story. It’s not so much that the plot itself is confusing, it’s that so much of it is still shrouded in mystery (everyone who knows anything about it conveniently dies before they can divulge their secrets) that all viewers really have to latch on to are a bunch of dead bodies. And as Castle sped through the procedural paces at record speed last night, there wasn’t a whole lot of time to fill in new viewers. Research or no, one thing is obvious about both the romance and conspiracy angles - they render Fillion’s talents irrelevant.

During the episode, Castle has three things on his mind: 1) his daughter's high school graduation 2) his mostly unexpressed love of Beckett 3) the fact that he has to prevent Beckett from investigating the conspiracy because a voice on the phone has been telling him all season that it's the only way to ensure her safety. The first two offer little comedic potential outside of familiar father anxiety and mumbling puppy dog sheepishness, but #3? That has potential. Castle's thing is bringing an unorthodox perspective to these cases, right? This is an ideal opportunity for him to overdo it just to keep them off the real trail. Instead, he just stands there moping, only speaking up to pooh-pooh each new development in the case. He does a lousy job making these scenes interesting, and an even worse job of keeping Beckett off the case.

In heroic fashion, Castle gives up and decides to tell Beckett about the deal for her safety, and to confess his love for her (a retread of last year’s finale). This makes Beckett furious (the deal, not the love thing). She wants to know how he could withhold a potential lead for a full year. On most shows, the audience would probably angrily agree, but considering how out of line this conspiracy plot is with Castle's week-to-week operations, I suspect fans may have just been hoping Castle would succeed in preventing her from snooping around and the whole thing would be quietly dropped.

With Beckett all worked up, things take a much more action oriented tone. She threatens to bring war to the doorstep of the unknown perpetrators of this conspiracy. That's very tough talk for an NYPD detective who has no idea who she’s fighting. Her investigation leads her to this week’s killer, and supposedly the person who shot her last season, Tahmoh Penikett of Battlestar Galactica semi-fame. He promptly kicks her ass all over a rooftop in the episode’s best scene. The ease with which Penikett handles Beckett sets him up as a formidable foe, and it was nice to see a bad guy decisively win a fight in a season finale.

In the final scenes, Beckett quits the force and shows up at Castle's apartment (soaking wet) to admit she loves him too. Before the season can end on this happy note, Penikett reveals that he works directly for the conspiracy string-puller and then declares his intent to put Beckett in the ground. The inevitable hook-up and the reference to some all-powerful Mr. X do nothing for me, but the promise of a Penikett-Beckett rematch might actually get me to tune in again. Maybe when Castle drifts from comedy it should skip over the romance and conspiracy and head right for the all-out action.

This week we’re watching Acolytes. Joel Edgerton stars as a serial killer who gets blackmailed by three high school students.

Next week:  Blood and Bone. Michael Jai White stars in a direct-to-video underground fighting flick that probably qualifies as a loose remake of Lionheart.

It's a surprise he didn't get blackmailed sooner considering his rather conspicuous burial habits.

A trio of moody teenagers, a molester they want revenge on, and a serial killer with an urge to tutor. It seems like Acolytes has all the right ingredients for a solid thriller. Where does it go wrong?

Jeff Hart:  The tone of Acolytes is oppressively dark. Is it unreasonable of me to think a flick about some teens blackmailing a serial killer should have a lighter touch? Maybe some dark comedy? Director Jon Hewitt doesn’t seem to realize the silliness of his own premise, so steeped are the proceedings in child abuse. Everything here is deathly serious, especially the pathos of our three teenage leads. Sebastian Gregory as lead teenager Mark managed to invoke some sympathy from me with his muted performance but, in general, these teens are not pleasant to spend time with. I could’ve used a little more Stand By Me and a lot less Sleepers.

Jeremiah White:  Sleepers has nothing on the relentlessly dreary, sleep-inducing tone of Acolytes. I was attracted to Acolytes particularly because it sounded like a fun twist on familiar elements. As Jeff mentioned, it’s anything but fun, and the blackmail angle doesn’t really amount to much. It takes Edgerton all of 2 seconds to figure out who the kids are and turn the tables. They’re never really in a position of power and are mostly reduced to standard teen victims. The most unusual thing about them is their extreme amount of emotional baggage, the unpacking of which largely takes precedence over present-day action. Unfortunately, no amount of deep, dark secrets could make these personality-deficient teens interesting.

How does Australian ambassador Joel Edgerton acquit himself as the top-billed serial killer?

Jeff Hart:  Edgerton is fun, and kinda scary, but he’s mostly underutilized. He comes on in a rush during the film’s second half and his big scene – taking Mark along during the potential murder of a hitchhiking Norwegian girl – becomes an awkward mixture of exposition (for the serial killer) and plot reveals (for the teenagers). In a way it’s sloppy, but it’s also pretty much as scary as Acolytes gets thanks almost entirely to Edgerton’s intensity.

Jeremiah White:  Edgerton is fine, although considering how restrained the kids are, it would have been nice for him to cut loose a bit more. I’m glad you mentioned the hitchhiker scene though. That’s the one time Acolytes really uses its premise to play with the dynamic between killer and kids. I also found it disappointing, but the fact that it's still one of the high points is a testament to the premise's potential. Is anybody interested in an American remake?

How are the scares and/or thrills?

Jeff Hart:  Acolytes is all mood. Most of the scares are cheap “gotcha jump” moments, really, that are created more in editing than they are through atmosphere. One of our teens will be staring mournfully into the distance and suddenly – shriek! – smash cut to a flashback of someone getting murdered. I was most scared during a strobe lit dream sequence. It was the first time I’ve ever been seriously concerned about epilepsy.

Jeremiah White:  That’s a good point. Not only do the scares consist almost entirely of jarring edits, they’re done in a particularly lazy way relying on elements inorganic to the scene at hand, like flashbacks. Even if they succeed in making the audience jump, there’s nothing actually “scary” about them. There’s no lingering effect, they don’t heighten the tension. It’s a telling example of how Acolytes’ obsession with the past precludes the present from ever gaining momentum.

News:

Apparently, Marvel is pushing Avengers quite hard.

Renaissance: Because you kids are in touch and “with it,” I’m sure most of you were participating in the various Occupy activities which took place on May Day. Before I go any further, I would like to point out that when I was young "May Day" was "J-Day", but I suppose things were different in the 90s. For those of you who had work, or otherwise couldn't make it, here's a secondhand account of what happened, with a focus on the musical aspects, because, um... this is a music column.

May 1st was chosen as a “General Strike” day by Occupy organizers, and a multitude of rallies, marches, pickets, flash mobs, workshops and walkouts were held in the hopes of re-energizing the Occupy movement, while reminding the world that it is still as strong as ever. By most accounts, Tuesday’s efforts were a success, and may provide the momentum the movement needs to grow throughout the summer, and beyond. Among the many activities which were conducted on May Day were some rather interesting musical happenings, involving names as varied as  Tom Morello, Dan Deacon, Das Racist, Immortal Technique, JD Samson and something called "The Guitarmy."

Morello was easily the most hyped and anticipated performer who took part in Tuesday's Occupy festivities. The former Machine Rager led a massive throng of acoustic guitar and egg shaker-armed individuals (the aforementioned “Guitarmy”) down Fifth Avenue, from Bryant Park to Union Square, as they attempted to deliver spirited renditions of protest songs like Woody Guthrie’s This Land Is Your Land. When the march was over, Morello performed at Union Square with members of the Guitarmy, followed by some speakers. Then, Latin jazz singer and drummer Bobby Sanabria took the stage, played some tunes, and encouraged everyone to protest the Grammys’ erroneous decision to cut 31 different categories which essentially represented "diversity.” Das Racist was up after Sanabria and, although their sound went out during the set, the rap-trio managed to persevere with a little help from some fans in the crowd. After Das Racist passed the mic (figuratively at least), Dan Deacon reportedly delivered the most invigorating part of Tuesday's proceedings, and this tremendous video clip really makes it seem that way.

As the night wound down, sets from Immortal Technique and JD Samson capped the evening off, and by the time it was over, the thousands who had gathered for May Day’s action ended their days exhausted and satisfied... Not satisfied with their country, or way of life, but with their Tuesday, which is a start at least... or maybe a restart.

I am sure she will be a proud mother one day.

Watch out for the brown acid: As the weather gets warmer, and you finish your finals, or prepare to swelter at work, thoughts of summer concerts may begin to fill your head. Fear not, young/not-young person!!! Your humble sonic sherpa has spent some time checking out schedules and lineups in order to provide you with a quick primer of the best, and biggest, tours and festivals out there in the US of A in the coming months. Oh, and if you're one of those people who isn’t familiar with proper concert etiquette, read this old Clef Notes and learn something.

Tours: Action Bronson, The Beach Boys, Beach House, The Black Keys, Black Sabbath, Bruce Springsteen, Coldplay, Curren$y, D’Angelo, Danny Brown, Dave Matthews Band, Death Cab For Cutie, Death Grips, Drake, Explosions In The Sky, Feist, Iceage, J. Cole, Jack White, Japandroids, Kendrick Lamar, Kurt Vile, M83, The Men, Mogwai, My Morning Jacket, Nicki Minaj, Pearl Jam, Radiohead, Real Estate, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Roger Waters, Shabazz Palaces, The Shins, Sigur Ros, Sleigh Bells, The Smashing Pumpkins, Snoop Dogg, The War On Drugs, Wilco, Wiz Khalifa, The Weeknd, Yeasayer

Festivals: The Bamboozle (NJ), Bonnaroo (TN), Burning Man (NV), Camp Bisco (NY), Catalpa Music Festival (NY), Electric Daisy Carnival (Various), Electric Zoo (NY), Firefly Music Festival (DE). Forecastle Festival (KY), Free Press Summer Fest (TX) Gathering Of The Juggalos (IL), The Governors Ball (NY), I’ll Be Your Mirror (NJ), I Love This City (San Diego, San Francisco), Lollapalooza (IL), Make Music Pasadena (CA), Mayhem Festival (Various), Newport Folk Festival (RI), Orion Music (NJ), Outside Lands (CA), Pitchfork Music Festival (IL), Punk Rock & Bowling (NV), River’s Edge Music Festival (MN), Rock On The Range (OH), Roots Picnic (PA), Sasquatch (WA), Soundtown Festival (WI), Summer Jam (NY), Summerfest (WI), Spring Awakening (IL),Wanderlust (Various), Warped Tour (Various).

Reviews:

Death Grips - The Money Store

Nearly everything about Death Grips is difficult to describe. Their lineup is a product of the modern technological age (one vocalist, one drummer, one synth player, no guitars, no bass), and their sound is the product of recurring nightmares and dystopian pessimism, fueled by rage, while being channeled through what some people refer to as rap-rock, but is actually something newer, significantly more untamed, and less awful... [Full Review]

The Wanted (EP) - The Wanted

As everyone would expect, the new Wanted release is full of the kind of nausea-inducing mawkish sentimentality and romanticism that's meant to have girls all over the world believe these boys are singing directly to them. I don’t care how cute any of them are, whether or not one of them has to shave, or how darling you think their accents are. These kids are a bunch of gits, and make horrendous music... [Full Review]

16th Notes:

Everyone in Montreal is wearing them!

Odd Future’s Earl Sweatshirt has reportedly been given his own imprint through Columbia. I want to hate, but the kid did put the "ass in assassin"... Jack White’s solo album, Blunderbuss, sold 138,000 copies in its inital week and became his first ever number one album. I blame the rest of you for not making Elephant number one at some point... Twin Shadow has announced some new album details. That kind of news makes me quite happy, I hope it does the same for you... The music of Animal Collective and Hot Chip both appeared on last week’s episode of The Simpsons. Too bad you stopped watching that show ten years ago (I didn’t)... After recently delaying the release of her debut EP, Azealia Banks has now cancelled a string of summer festival dates. Things seem to be sliding downhill a bit for the gifted young MC, I hope she can regain some traction soon... The extremely talented, and supremely eccentric, Canadian known as Grimes has teamed up with a Montreal area jeweler to release a line of "Grimes Pussy Rings", which are rings shaped like... well... vaginas. If you act fast you might be able to get some in time for Mother’s Day... Jessica Simpson gave birth to a baby girl this week. I hope that last bit of “news” wasn’t important to you... Kevin Shields told NME that the third My Bloody Valentine record will actually come out in 2012. I repeat: Kevin Shields told NME that the third My Bloody Valentine record will actually come out in 2012...

Top Ten List:

While I was doing my research for this week’s Top Ten List, I found that two artists were born this week, each bearing the last name Brown. One was Chris Brown, the other, James Brown. Those of you who have read my work, and are familiar with my worldview, already know that I would never praise Chris Brown - but beyond that, James Brown was the Godfather of Soul!

For nearly sixty years, James Brown was the hardest working man in show business. A passionate performer of the highest order, Brown’s musical career and legacy are among the finest of any American artist. As vast as his impact was on the music world, Brown’s greatest contribution to society was as a civil rights activist; countless African-Americans who lived through the 60s and 70s credit Brown for helping to reconstruct the pride, self-esteem and dignity of his people, at a time when they needed it the most. James Brown was a legendary American, and these are his ten best songs of all time.

10) Living In America
9) Super Bad
8) Please, Please, Please
7) Say It Loud
6) Mother Popcorn
5) It’s A Man’s World
4) I Got The Feelin’
3) Get Up I Feel Like Being A Sex Machine
2) I Got You (I Feel Good)
1) Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag

Clips Of The Week:

Last week’s Clip Of The Week was The POTUS slow-jamming the news on Jimmy Fallom, and as I watched it, somehow I got to thinking of the interesting relationship that music has had with Late Night over the years. Nowadays Late Night has become the favorite destination for any indie or “cool” band with a record to sell, partially because producers have realized that the demographic who buys Jimmy Buffett albums will be dying soon, and partially because indie done gone mainstream. It didn’t used to be this way; there was once a time when you had to be a pretty big name to get airtime, and that is the era I am going back to for these clips of the week.

It would’ve been way too boring of me to just highlight famous performances on Late Night (I will save that for a later date, when I am out of ideas). Instead, I decided to spice things up this week by showcasing some of the craziest, most high, and completely absurd visits that have been made to the evening talk show circuit.

Click here to view the video on YouTube.

I only recently got hip to this clip, which features an amazingly dressed Sly Stone, who probably spent too much time in a snow bank (if you get my drift {!!!}). Straight-laced Dick Cavett tries his best to roll with the punches throughout this interview, and even gets in a few digs at Stone's expense, but in the end all Cavett could do was wait for these six minutes to end.

Click here to view the video on YouTube.

Like many musicians, Iggy Pop underwent many highs and lows over the course of his career. According to punk historians, during the 80s Pop was struggling mightily with a debilitating heroin addiction, which (allegedly) was causing him to waste away, and he had to put out music that was more commercial (than the Stooges at least) to support his habit. This interview from the Tom Snyder show is a brief glimpse at what many consider to be the lowest point of Pop's life. To be fair, he did get better.

Click here to view the video on YouTube.

When I was a young boy my mother often worked the graveyard shift at Brooklyn’s Veterans Hospital. Because she was not home to make sure I was in bed on time, I would often stay up late to watch Letterman. Luckily, I was watching the night this episode of the Late Show aired, and even as a twelve year old boy, I was aware that I was watching ridiculousness. I learned so much from Madonna’s 1994 Late Show fiasco, but the lesson that sticks with me to this day is how peeing in the shower is good for your feet.

Tracks Of The Week:

Five Seconds - Twin Shadow: I have been a fan of Twin Shadow since I first heard, and glowingly reviewed, his debut album, Forget, back in 2010. Last year I was lucky enough to catch his set at Lee’s Palace during the ol’ NXNE, and seeing him live only helped to reinforce my positive opinions of George Lewis Jr., and his enjoyable new-wave throwback sound. Five Seconds is the first promotional single off his upcoming sophomore release, Confess, and it’s a tense jam that harkens back to running, running, running so far away. It seems that Mr. Lewis has pretty much perfected his post-modern take on new-wave, and that’s a good thing... not just for him, but for us as well.

Good For You - My Bloody Valentine: This is an unreleased My Bloody Valentine song. Need I say more?