Off to a promising start.

Speaking purely in terms of demographics (white, heterosexual, male, 18-34), the character on NBC’s theatre drama/hopeful ratings savior Smash that I most closely identify with is Jack Davenport’s talented but slimy director. In the show’s pilot, Davenport feels that he’s entitled to some casting couch action from Katharine McPhee’s plucky Broadway newcomer. So, not exactly a sympathetic character.

There are only two other options for those in my demographic. One is Debra Messing’s wet blanket husband who, in a pleasant subversion of the usual TV gender roles, whines about why Messing has to work so hard. And then there’s McPhee’s super-supportive and incredibly boring government boyfriend. He’s intriguing only in that, unlike Davenport’s overbearing seducer, Mr. Optimism gets to spend plenty of time groping a willing McPhee.

That’s not to say that I’m incapable of identifying with characters outside my demographic – female, gay, Anjelica Huston, whatever. I point out Smash’s lack of sympathetic, featured, straight white males only to emphasize how the show has cut itself off from television’s most highly sought after advertising demographic. As if doing a show about putting together a Broadway musical was really going to rope in the bros.

And yet, there will almost certainly be a bombardment of Smash ads during Sunday’s Super Bowl. It debuts on Monday with the new season of The Voice as a lead-in. The Voice premiere, by the way, airs in the coveted Super Bowl lead-out spot. I’m a little surprised NBC didn’t just run Smash in that position. That would’ve made it two years running we’ve had a TV musical following football (last year it was Glee, blech), and it also would’ve been the best opportunity NBC would have to grab a piece of the male demographic that will almost assuredly tune out Smash, no matter how many promos break up the Super Bowl’s manliness scale light beer commercials.

The point, I guess, is that those dudes will actually be missing a very well-made show. Smash would probably benefit, ratings-wise, from suckering in some dudes too drunk and lazy to turn off the television after football. Those dudes would benefit from getting to watch one of best written network drama pilots I can remember watching since Lone Star (emphasis on “network,” obviously). Without trapping them, though, how to get adult males interested in a show with so many jazz hands?

Perhaps by down-playing how revolting the song and dance routine is to the average macho viewer? Really, guys, it’s not that bad! I don’t want to get into the musical numbers too much, other than to say that they arrive much more organically than any of the over-produced covers from Glee. Obviously, that’s because these songs are part of the story – they’re auditions, or rehearsals, or in-the-mirror practicing. They aren’t pop-garbage shoehorned into the show for an easy emotional beat or to push units of the latest volume of soundtrack. They’re also spaced well and not overwhelming.

Also, one of them is really raunchy, so there’s that.

Smash will likely be a hit without the support of insecure, straight, tasteless white males. NBC is certainly counting on the show capitalizing on the country’s current love affair with people singing, and appealing to the underserviced lady demographic. The pilot is cleverly written, sharply acted, and sets up a very compelling central drama for the first season. It calls to mind the second season of Entourage – not the douchebag lifestyle porn – but the scrappy, “let’s make a movie!” wheeling and dealing that made that show briefly exciting. Is that comparison bro-y enough to convince you to check out the pilot? You should.

News:

Don Cornelius 1936-2012

R.I.P: The music world was shocked this week to learn that the creator, and former host, of Soul Train, Don Cornelius, died of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head early Wednesday morning. The Chicago-born, velvet-voiced, television host and producer was found dead on the floor of his Mulholland Drive home by authorities who responded to a report of a shooting at 4:00AM. Cornelius’ body was brought to Cedar-Sinai where he was officially pronounced dead.

After returning from military service in Korea, Cornelius worked a number of different jobs including insurance salesman, car salesman, and Chicago police officer. In 1966, Cornelius was the married father of two boys when he decided to quit his day job, and enrolled in a three month broadcasting course. That same year he took jobs as an announcer, news reporter, and disc jockey on Chicago radio station WVON. It was during this phase of his life that Cornelius became aware that America did not have a television show which featured Soul music, nor one that was dedicated to African-American youth culture.

In 1970, Cornelius created Soul Train for the Chicago television station WCIU, serving as its writer, producer, and host. The show quickly became a local sensation, and by '71 Cornelius moved to Los Angeles where he began broadcasting nationally, starting a 35 year run in syndication. During Soul Train's height of popularity, it was as influential an hour of television as ever aired in this country. Some of the biggest names in Soul and R&B performed on Soul Train during the '70's and '80's, with artists like James Brown, Michael Jackson, Marvin Gaye, and Aretha Franklin making numerous legendary appearances throughout the years. Soul Train was also used as an avenue to expose white musicians, like Elton John and David Bowie, to black audiences in the states, broadening all horizons involved.

Who doesn't love a good party?

Of course, Soul Train’s impact on our country’s culture extended far beyond just the music of the times. Every week the show would feature the latest in fashion, dance, and the overall style of African-American youth, giving white America a window into a world that was foreign to many of them. Upon hearing of Mr. Cornelius’ death, numerous civil rights leaders and academics were quick to pay tribute to the man and his legacy, including Lonnie G. Bunch III (the director of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture), who had this to say: “For young black teenagers like myself, (Soul Train) gave us a sense of pride and a sense that the culture we loved could be shared and appreciated nationally.”

Mr. Cornelius had experienced some hard times over the last five years of his life, as financial problems, multiple run-ins with the law (including an ugly spousal abuse incident), and a bitter divorce from his second wife, Russian model Viktoria Chapman-Cornelius, all began to take their toll. In 2009, he was sentenced to three years probation after pleading no contest to misdemeanor charges of spousal battery in a plea bargain, while in 2010 Cornelius told the judge presiding over his divorce that he was having “significant health problems,” but did not elaborate.

Those closest to Cornelius seemed to be genuinely shocked that the 75 year old could have taken his own life, although a Chicago Sun-Times piece released February 2nd suggests that he may have been bipolar, and perhaps quite depressed in the months preceding his death. Such conjecture matters very little now, because this is the point in the tale where the narrator only has nice things to say. Don Cornelius was a broadcasting giant, a cultural icon, and one of the coolest cats ever to rock an afro and a thin microphone. Let’s hope his message of love, peace, and soul lives on long past the echo of his words.

This is the exact face Minaj made when she found out her video was banned.

Other Countries Mock Us For Stuff Like This: Earlier this week BET decided that the Hype Williams-directed video for Nicki Minaj’s Stupid Hoe (which I’m assuming is one of many Lil’ Kim diss tracks appearing on the upcoming Roman’s Reloaded) was unfit to air, and banned it. Though there has been no official statement from the network explaining the banning, an unnamed rep did tell TMZ that the video was deemed too explicit for television. Having watched said video more than ten times as of the writing of this Clef Notes, I still don’t really get what BET’s problem is.

Sure, the lyrics to Stupid Hoe are pretty salacious, and could even be considered offensive to some audiences (particularly those of the female variety), but we’ve all definitely heard worse. Some of my peers have mentioned that the last twenty seconds of Stupid Hoe would have to be entirely bleeped in order to get onto airwaves and, although that’s true, it does boggle my mind that those who bring up this point don’t acknowledge that it would be pretty simple to come up with a politically correct edit. Over the first minute and twenty seconds of the video there isn’t anything that could be classified as explicit about the images, unless you are shocked by the butt of a nude mannequin (which would make you an idiot). At around the 1:20 mark, we see some shots of Minaj dressed provocatively while crawling around in a yellow cage, but none of the “choreography” involved is any racier than what was portrayed in her hit Super Bass video. When Stupid Hoe gets to the 2:43 mark there are some full on shots of Minaj’s butt - in a thong, and covered in fishnet- and although it’s unquestionably a remarkable image, it’s still no worse than those you would find in a typical modern video (does anyone remember Christina Aguilera’s Dirty?).

This is not the first time that BET has banned a video from its airwaves. Some of you may remember when the network banned Ciara’s Ride back in 2010, for also being too explicit. There is, however, a good chance it could be the last time; after all, who the fuck watches videos on television, anyway? The Stupid Hoe video actually premiered on the Vevo website, and is already a monster, drawing over 4 million views this week. Minaj also went the extra mile to defend the decision to premiere the video on the Internet via her twitter with this statement: “It's important that my art is not tampered with, or compromised prior to you viewing it for the 1st time." The impressive number of views, and the declining ratings of music television stations, only serve to reinforce the notion that networks are now meaningless when it comes to exposure, and just a sad remnant of the glorious past. Besides, Minaj is right, no one should be allowed to edit, censor, or tamper with art, especially media conglomerates.

One final point... Can Hype Williams please stop directing videos that are intended to give us all epileptic seizures? I suggest you have your cell phone nearby when you watch this clip, in case you need to call an ambulance (you didn't think I would write all this and NOT post the video, did you?).

Reviews:

Born To Die - Lana Del Rey

In all honesty, I wanted Born To Die to be great. It would have been a real treat to see Del Rey get the last laugh and make all of those who tried to take her down eat crow. Sadly, this is not the case. Instead, Born To Die is fifty minutes of Lana Del Rey failing to live up to any of the hype that surrounds her. Nearly every moment of this record comes off as horrendously contrived. No other song on this album even comes close to achieving the apparent lightning in a bottle-type excellence of Video Games... [Full Review]

16th Notes:

We should all hope to look that good at fifty.

The British are all beyond ecstatic, because the Spice Girls are reuniting to perform at the Queen’s upcoming Diamond Jubilee (marking the 60th year of her reign). I wonder which of the Spice Girls is Elizabeth’s favorite?... Guns N’ Roses announced some February club shows in the New York City and Chicago area this week. Don’t bother trying to buy tickets from Ticketmaster,we have all learned by now that such exercises are futile... Garbage has completed their first new album in seven years, and it's set to be released on May 15th. Butch Vig is in Garbage, and I love Butch Vig, so I will try my best to not dwell on the fact that I don’t know a single person who is excited about a new Garbage record... James Murphy recently let the world know that his next business venture will be as a coffee maven. I am so glad I don’t drink coffee, because I would not want to be one of the suck- I mean, people, who buy this... Katy Perry is reportedly busy developing a 3D movie. There are so many places I want to go with this joke, but most are rather inappropriate and low-brow, so instead I will go with this: (Raspberry)... Bjork appeared on Colbert this week and it was totally hilarious. Watch it and be prepared to laugh... Drake performed at the NHL All-Star game last weekend. I didn’t watch the game, but I have watched this clip about a dozen times... Lou Reed recently announced an upcoming Summer tour which will be dubbed from VU to LULU. That’s right kids, you will finally have the chance to hear Heroin and Junior Dad all at the same awful show... St. Vincent will appear on the Valentine’s Day episode of Gossip Girl, and I won’t be watching... Lana Del Rey is considering re-releasing her digitally distributed first album, which she produced under the Lizzie Grant moniker. I am starting to think this woman is just a glutton for punishment...

Top Twenty List:

As I was writing about Nicki Minaj’s banned video I started to do a little research into songs that have been banned through the years, and lo, a Top Twenty list was born. These songs were all banned from radio airplay and, in some cases, were not even allowed to be sold in some countries, mostly due to thinly veiled drug references, “explicit” content, or religious references.

20) Physical - Olivia Newton John
19) Smack My Bitch Up - Prodigy
18) Eve Of Destruction - Barry McGuire
17) Oasis - Amanda Palmer
16) Pictures Of Lilly - The Who
15) The Bitch Is Back - Elton John
14) Fat Bottomed Girls - Queen
13) I Want Your Sex - George Michael
12) Let’s Spend The Night Together - The Rolling Stones
11) Love Me Two Times - The Doors
10) Relax - Frankie Goes To Hollywood
9) God Save The Queen - The Sex Pistols
8) Happiness Is A Warm Gun - The Beatles
7) Louie Louie - The Kingsmen
6) Great Balls Of Fire - Jerry Lee Lewis
5) Only The Good Die Young - Billy Joel
4) Street Fighting Man - The Rolling Stones
3) My Generation - The Who
2) God Only Knows - The Beach Boys
1) A Day In The Life - The Beatles

Tracks Of The Week:

Bad Girls - M.I.A: I was quite surprised when I learned that everyone was super-psyched about the "new" M.I.A track, Bad Girls, this week. Mainly because I had already given this song a positive write-up when it was a Track Of The Week a year ago. Well, just in time for her cameo during this Sunday’s Super Bowl half-time show, Bad Girls is back! This time it’s about ninety seconds longer, and a bit more slickly produced, but it’s still essentially the same great track that appeared on the Vicki Leex mixtape last January.

Boobie Miles - Big K.R.I.T: Big Mother F’n K.R.I.T is without question one of my favorite rappers in the game today, and I have been chomping at the bit for the follow-up to the fantastic Return Of 4Eva. Well, thankfully, 4Eva N a Day drops February 20th, and not only has the mixtape’s first single, Boobie Miles, already seen the light of day, but it’s another classic (K.R.I.T. did it again!). Everything you could want from a new K.R.I.T track is present and accounted for: some smooth as hell production, his trademark Southern swag, and an engaging tale worth hearing again and again.

"I have bad news: George Clooney got your Best Actor nomination."

You know those technical awards they hand out at the Oscars, and how everyone wonders who could possibly care about such a thing, including the people nominated? The answer, apparently, is Paramount. If you're lucky anough to live in an Academy-rich city like NY, LA, or San Francisco (really?), then you will likely see this over the next few weeks:

That's right. It's an Oscar campaign for Transformers 3: Transform With A Vengeance, which is nominated for Sound Editing, Sound Mixing, and Visual Effects. Surreal? Sure. A new low for Oscar Season? Absolutely. A shameless attempt to buy Oscars in meaningless categories? No! A spokesperson for Paramount explains that the campaign is part of a larger initiative to increase awareness of the technical Oscars because winners are voted on by the entire Academy. And most of those people care about sound mixing as much as Joe Merlot siting at home.

That would be some pretty effective corporate spin, if only the commercial implored voters to weigh these awards as heavily as others, and to seek the guidance from their more tech-savvy friends. Instead, it just boldly proclaims the Transformers tech teams the best. That actually sounds like the opposite of what the spokesperson is claiming. Spend all the money you want on ads, but don't tell me it's for the "artists."

I'm sure this whole plot has something as despicable as a Transformers: The Ultimate Collection - Oscar Edition box set as its end game. Transformers 1 was nominated for the same three awards, Transformers 2 (a terrible movie even by the abysmally low Transformers standards) was only nominated for Sound Mixing. The Transformers franchise has thus far netted a total of 0 Oscar wins. Let's keep the streak alive!

*Trivia side note: Pearl Harbor's win for Sound Editing back in 2002 is the only Oscar win for a Michael Bay-directed movie... ever, for anything.

Regardless of who goes home with the win, for the first time I can recall, Sound Editing, Sound Mixing, and Visual Effects have storylines headed into the big night. Will the Academy give in to Paramount's pushiness? Will Transformers become the Susan Lucci of giant robot movie franchises? This has to make the ceremony go by quicker, right? Right? Please say yes.

On his way to the Insty Awards!

The editors of Culture Blues, Jeff Hart and Jeremiah White, are proud to announce this year’s field for the 2^nd Annual Insty Awards. The Insties celebrate a year of achievements in The Instant Movie Club by doling out arbitrary awards to a small selection of films that were pretty much randomly selected based on what movies the editors felt like writing about on any given week.

“Where else but The Insties could I find myself up against luminaries like Francis Ford Coppola and Darren Aronofsky?” asked Best Director nominee David Russo, whose film The Immaculate Conception of Little Dizzle is nominated for a pair of Insties.

Steven Spielberg, director of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, did not respond to requests for comment on his Insty snub.

Whereas last year’s Insty Awards saw Mail Order Wife score a record six nominations (although only one win), no single film distinguished itself this year. Four films – I’m Still Here, The Hit, Barry Munday, and Wendy & Lucy – lead the pack with three nominations each.

Melissa Leo, a best Supporting Actress nominee for her role in Red State, became the first person to receive two Insty nominations in consecutive years.

“What the fuck is an Insty?” asked Leo, before stubbing out her menthol cigarette and slamming the door of her lakefront trailer.

The 2^nd Annual Insty Awards will be held on Monday, February 6^th.

Becoming an Insty icon.

Best Picture
The Hit
I’m Still Here
Tiny Furniture
Toy Story 3
Wendy & Lucy

Best Director
Casey Affleck, I’m Still Here
Darren Aronofsky, The Fountain
Francis Ford Coppola, Tetro
Kelly Reichardt, Wendy & Lucy
David Russo, The Immaculate Conception of Little Dizzle

Best Actor
Anthony Mackie, Night Catches Us
Joaquin Phoenix, I’m Still Here
Adam Scott, The Vicious Kind
Terrence Stamp, The Hit
Patrick Wilson, Barry Munday

Best Actress
Lena Dunham, Tiny Furniture
Judy Greer, Barry Munday
Chloe Moretz, Let Me In
Adrienne Shelley, Trust (the romantic one, not the one about pedophiles)
Michele Williams, Wendy & Lucy

Best Supporting Actor
Ted Beck, All American Orgy
David Dorfman, Panic
Colin Farrell, The Way Back
Tim Roth, The Hit
Vince Vieluf, The Immaculate Conception of Little Dizzle

Best Supporting Actress
Neve Campbell, Panic
Melissa Leo, Red State
Liana Liberato, Trust (the one about pedophiles)
Liza Minnelli, Arthur
Claire Sloma, Myth of the American Sleepover

Biggest Badass
Barney Ross, The Expendables
Hirayama, 13 Assassins
The Hobo, Hobo With a Shotgun
The Tire, Rubber
Yuda, Merantau

Best Couple
Ginger & Barry, Barry Munday
Kyung-chul & Soo-hyun, I Saw the Devil
Linda & Arthur, Arthur
Maria & Matthew, Trust (the romantic one)
Tucker & Dale, Tucker and Dale vs. Evil

Worst Picture
Hobo With a Shotgun
Limitless
Passion Play
Trespass
White Irish Drinkers

Welcome to my harem, Contestant 31!

The CW approved three pilots for their 2012-2013 season, and they prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that CW execs have been keeping up on all the latest entertainment news. Let’s take a look at their prospective shows and their completely coincidental similarities to already existing properties.

The Selection – Brought to you by the secret circle behind The Secret Circle and arguably the most notable of CW’s pickups, The Selection is based on a proposed trilogy of novels, with the first installment coming later this year. Jumping 300 years into the dystopian future, The Selection details the journey of impoverished, nubile teenager America Singer (yeah, for real) when she wins a lottery to compete in a prestigious and dangerous competition. 35 girls are chosen, but only one will get to marry the prince (spoiler alert: the rest become concubines).

So basically… it’s The Bachelor meets that Hunger Games movie that Entertainment Weekly keeps writing about. My invoking those two properties is about as original The Selection itself, but it’s literally impossible to talk about this thing otherwise.

Shelter – This drama about the staffers and guests at a New England summer resort comes from J.J. Abrams and Bad Robot, which used to mean something.

So basically… you watched the Golden Globes and then decided to check out Downton Abbey and then went ahead and made your own, with just a splash of Revenge’s northeastern affluence.

Joey Dakota – Easily the least notable of the pickups, Joey Dakota, based on Israel’s Danny Hollywood, is the startlingly convoluted story of a documentary filmmaker who travels back to the 1990s, falls in love with the rock star subject of her film, and then tries to prevent his death when she returns to the present. If you didn’t follow that, don’t worry. Just think of it as a reverse Back to the Future with a Reality Bites injection.

So basically… you took Homeland’s success as a ringing endorsement of all Israeli television. Look, when Israelites start talking about terrorism, us American listen up because, well, come on, they know their shit. Rock music? Ehhh.

I would have made some easy jokes about how these shows will only last a few episodes each, but Ringer is still on the air, so who the hell knows what’s going to happen next over at the CW.

Born To Die - Lana Del Rey

I knew this day would come. Born To Die was going to drop eventually and it was, unfortunately, going to be sub-par. Of course I’d review it, and I would no doubt spend most of my review contemplating, deliberating, and dissecting the very nature of Lana Del Rey. I knew this day would come, yet it’s not any easier.

Over the course of the last six months or so I, like the rest of the Internet music critiquing glitterati, have been writing about every move and moment of Lana Del Rey’s life. During that span there was one distinct difference between my coverage and that of the rest of my colleagues; I wasn’t a biased cynic intent on throwing dirt on a career that had, for all intent and purposes, not yet begun. I was actually kind of pulling for her, because I am just that kind of optimistic guy,the kind who wishes the best for all of us... That, and the fact that when people make great records it's good for both me as a critic and music as a whole.

By this point in the narrative the truth about Del Rey has been greatly obscured by the vitriol. She was born Lizzie Grant (one isn't allowed to write a serious piece about Del Rey without using her birth name), grew up in Lake Placid, New York, went to prep school in Connecticut, and moved to New York City at eighteen to attend Fordham University. Her father is millionaire investor Rob Grant, who numerous articles cite as the bankroller of her career. Grant dropped out of Fordham to chase her musical aspirations and in 2008 began to write songs and perform at venues in and around New York City. By the age of 20 she had signed a deal with the record label 5 Points, began working with some high profile producers, and released her first EP Kill, Kill. Grant’s tenure with 5 Points also produced a second record, though she was not pleased with the final product and asked for it to be shelved while working out a deal to buy her masters and get out of her contract (it was right around this time when the name change happened). After a couple years spent reworking material and reshaping her image, Lana Del Rey was born, complete with hit song,  new look, altered persona, and her new role as Queen of the hate prom.

So to recap: her name isn’t Lana Del Rey, her daddy is rich, she’s not a time traveling ingenue who lost her virginity to James Dean while listening to Biggie Smalls on her iPod, and her lips aren’t real (allegedly).

It would be impossible for me to count how many arguments I have had about Del Rey since Video Games went viral and her existence went polarizing. Just so we’re clear, my stances were simple: I enjoyed Video Games (it’s a great song, deal with it), and I felt that the immense amount of backlash she had engendered was unreasonable. Why does anyone care that a pop-star may or may not be phony? Katy Perry topped the charts with songs about Kissing Girls, yet her first album was a Christian-pop record released under the name Katy Hudson (*gasp*). Grammy-winning artist Norah Jones, who is widely respected in the music community, has a super rich daddy, but no one gave her any grief for that as she was coming up. Did we all forget that some of The Strokes come from big money? Nancy Sinatra (who many critics feel Del Rey tries to emulate) was fucking Frank Sinatra’s daughter, for Christ's sake! The arguments against Del Rey get much more irrational with young people, Internet detractors, and drunken idiots at parties. I have, for example, actually had people try to convince me that the Illuminati, or some other cabal, had a hand in making Del Rey what she is today. Let me reiterate a point from earlier in this paragraph... So what?

We all know that a vast percentage of entertainment is essentially a put-on, and in most cases we gladly disregard these factors due to the intrinsic complicity between art and its audience. Lady Gaga is allowed to be Lady Gaga without snarky bloggers referring to her as Stefani every chance they get. Marilyn Manson went around calling himself the Anti-Christ Superstar in the mid-90s, without having that claim debated, or even derided, for the most part (unless you were a sign-waving Westboro Church type). David Bowie was not Ziggy Stardust, and thus not from outer space, and neither is Ace Frehley... I’m sure you can see where I’m going. So the question needs to be asked: what makes Del Rey’s case different?

There are a multitude of answers for that question, but the simplest one also happens to ring the most true - the world is an awfully cynical place these days. The type of scrutiny that exists within the constant modern discourse that is the blogosphere, message boards, and twitter is so harsh that the only way an artist can make it  is with the appropriate amount of cred, and the correct combination of blessings from taste-makers. I don't see this circumstance changing any time soon, to be honest, I can only see it getting worse. Of course, none of that really matters if you have some great songs in your repertoire and, it turns out, Lana Del Rey does not.

This leads me to the review section of this review.

In all honesty, I wanted Born To Die to be great. It would have been a real treat to see Del Rey get the last laugh and make all of those who tried to take her down eat crow. Sadly, this is not the case. Instead, Born To Die is fifty minutes of Lana Del Rey failing to live up to any of the hype that surrounds her. Nearly every moment of this record comes off as horrendously contrived. No other song on this album even comes close to achieving the apparent lightning in a bottle-type excellence of Video Games.

From the moment I heard the orchestral schmaltz and ubiquitous dub accents of the the album’s opening and title-track, I found myself wincing in anticipation of where the song was going to take me. After sitting through the chorus and “hook” for the first time, my wincing had evolved to a cringe, and I began to be consumed with dread. Things only got worse with Born To Die’s second track, Off To The Races, which actually features Del Rey singing in what I can only assume is her natural octave, and some truly embarrassing lyrics which, I assure you, the Illuminati would never have any part in. Thankfully, the album’s quality does raise slightly over the next two tracks as Blue Jeans, a song that I never liked but did manage to chart, and Video Games, a song I do not hide my enjoyment of, manage to provide an intermission from the the well produced malaise. Of course, once Diet Mountain Dew and its insufferable bridge come through the speakers everything goes back to being horrible. The first half of the record ends with National Anthem, a song which is obviously meant to be a tongue-in-cheek swipe at the vapid and materialistic members of our society, but does such a horrible job of conveying its subtext that it already has people demonizing it as a song with a terrible message (bravo!).

The album's second half kicks off with Dark Paradise, an over-dramatic Euro club-thumper that sports a weak and over-used melody, while feeling twice as long as its listed runtime. Then, just when the air has all but leaked out of the album, Radio delivers a three and a half minute reprieve that actually helps to stabilize the record. In fact, I found that most of Born To Die’s stronger tracks were in the record’s second half, as Million Dollar Man, This Is What Makes Us Girls and the rest of the last four songs are actually quite serviceable at times... Though we all know that having one great song, one decent song, and a couple of serviceable songs are not the proper components for an adequate, let alone good, record.

"So," you ask, " where does this leave Lana Del Rey?" Well, I had a hard enough time believing that her career would ever be able to get any traction before I heard this record and, having experienced its shortcomings, I suppose it is improbable. But we already knew that, right? After all, even Brian Williams recently took a swipe at Del Rey after her horrific performances on SNL. Yeah, that’s right; TV news personality Brian Williams. That’s how mainstream it has become to disparage Lana Del Rey. Do you think Brian Williams would have had something glib to say if Robin Pecknold had had a tough performance on SNL? It is my belief that Lana Del Rey has become something of a cautionary tale of the modern world. A hype machine martyr, if you will. Future pop-stars should take note of her trials and learn from her mistakes, or they too can be hated because their daddies were rich, they were too pretty, or they dared to synthesize the wrong genres or fashions together.

Get 'em, Freddy.

Watch the drunk ad man from Mad Men gun down idiots in the red band trailer for Bobcat Goldthwait’s God Bless America.

It’s not the most promising trailer ever. The dumbed-down America looks like a tame Idiocracy, and let’s face it, ridiculing vapid reality TV personalities is pretty much over. And the murdering spree looks like the kind of shock-tacular shooting gallery I associate with ugh-teur Uwe Boll. God Bless America doesn’t look like it has anything new to say, yet I’m still optimistic. Why is that?

It could be that the trailer strikes the right balance tonally between a life-affirming road movie and Taxi Driver. It could be the thematic similarities to Bill Hicks’ rants about putting a shotgun in Billy Ray Cyrus’ mouth. It could be that I can’t help but root for writer/director Bobcat Goldthwait (his last movie, World’s Greatest Dad, has lingered near the bottom of my to-watch list for a solid 2 years now – someday, Bobcat, someday). But the biggest reason might be precisely that it does look like something I’ve seen before, and liked.

A comedic voice airing his societal grievances via bloody genre tweaking reminds me of Kevin Smith’s Red State. I wasn’t a big fan of Red State but thought it was an interesting bit of experimentation that wisely focused on plot rather than social commentary. I expect God Bless America to do the same, hopefully with better results.

The pairing of a beaten-down adult male and an overenthusiastic teenage female as novice vigilantes echoes last year’s Super perhaps a bit too closely. But I loved Super and at the moment it’s hard to imagine complaining that a movie is too much like it (most movies aren’t nearly enough like Super).

Finally, as tiresome as mocking reality TV is, it’s not nearly as tiresome as reality TV. Have you seen The Soup lately? The clips are so ridiculous that I occasionally have to remind myself that these aren’t just jokes, these are tiny bits of episodes of actual TV shows… that people watch. It’s literally unbelievable.

God Bless America could end up being a heavy-handed sermon about how dumb and obnoxious everyone is, but I’m holding out hope it will be a dark bit of escapist venting. Either way, at least it’s not Police Academy 8.

I never liked you.

I gave Chuck numerous tries over the course of its five seasons, based on my belief that any network show that isn’t a grim police procedural deserves support. The “super-nerd becomes super-spy” was a fun premise, the spy comedy a genre seriously unrepresented on network television. Not that Chuck was any kind of original thinking on the part of the network. Nerds and spies were hot when Chuck debuted in 2007. Also premiering that year: The Big Bang Theory, Reaper, and the Bionic Woman (she was like a spy, right?).

The show never got the “super-nerd” part right. Some conveniently placed Star Wars memorabilia along with a troll-like best friend does not a nerd make. Even when he was rocking scruffy geek hair – a vast improvement over Season Five Chuck’s gelled hair wall, by the way – Chuck didn’t exhibit a whole lot of nerdy qualities, outside of his propensity to be perpetually flummoxed by beautiful women. As later season twists would reveal, Chuck came from a family of spies. Super-agent, not geek, was in his DNA. Isn’t that cheating the premise?

For that matter, Chuck never got the Chuck part right. Zachary Levi is my definition of a weak lead. Having skipped around significantly through the seasons of Chuck, and admittedly not having watched much of this final season prior to the finale, perhaps I haven’t worked up quite the tolerance for his blank slate acting style. Again, maybe I missed all this on account of my sporadic viewing, but it still seems to me Levi has very little chemistry with the rest of the cast. Using a goofy masseuse accent (whatever that is) during his sexless massage of love interest/wife/assassin Sarah might be viewed as an instance of Levi imbuing Chuck with some underdog charm. I just don’t buy it.

It certainly doesn’t help that the writers gave Sarah some high-tech amnesia for the final two episodes, undermining five seasons worth of relationship work between their two leads. If Sarah was initially a nerd wet-dream without meaningful feelings – an object – then it’s safe to say Chuck’s writers successfully reverted her to that for the show’s finale. Wish fulfilled.

That Sarah has forgotten why she likes Chuck gives the writers some nice opportunities for fan service, which is hopefully much appreciated considering how hard the Chuck cultists had to work to get this far. It also affords them plenty of opportunities to trot out Zachary Levi’s weepy face, which is not so pleasant. When over-utilized heavy Angus Macfayden calls Chuck “one of the world’s greatest – what’s the word? – pussies,” I was like, yeah, totally, right on.

Calling Chuck a pussy, while nicely encapsulating the character, also calls to the fore one of my biggest problems with Chuck: its lack of edge. Of course, Macfayden dropping the p-word might argue against my point, but I always found Chuck significantly lacking in balls. Not in the action department – some of the fights I can recall were actually pretty well done, especially vs. Stone Cold in the baggage hold – but in the comedy department. The show and its lead were just too soft, too bland, too unfunny.

And maybe that’s why people liked Chuck. I always thought the show managed to develop its cult following through a weird group-think, where NBC convinced geeks of less than discerning tastes (the kind of geeks they targeted with Heroes) that this was a show made for them. But maybe people liked Chuck because, in a landscape of high body count police procedurals and cable channel anti-heroes, here was a show that was un-cynical to the point of vapidity. It’s just so god damned nice all the time. Maybe Chuck, with its unremarkable milquetoast lead and not too off-putting nerdiness, made people feel safe and happy on Friday nights. I can tell you with some certainty that the series finale performance of Jeffster definitely brightened my day.

So, RIP, Chuck. You were sometimes pleasant, I guess.

This week we’re watching The Immaculate Conception of Little Dizzle, about a team of night janitors who become the unwitting subjects of an experiment with mind-bending cookies.

Next week:  The 2nd Annual Insties!

SPOILERS BELOW!

How would you rate the weirdness of The Immaculate Conception of Little Dizzle?

Jeremiah White:  It’s extremely weird. The title, the bizarre side effects of eating highly addictive, chemically enhanced cookies, and the frequent trippy animation sequences are enough to separate Little Dizzle from most movies. The thing that makes it most unique, however, is that all this experimental spirit is balanced by a familiar, lucid narrative and some hallmarks of the dreaded mainstream. It’s an art house movie for everybody. Dory’s discovery of meaning in his janitor job and his new coworkers could take place in anything from a studio comedy to Oscar bait. Vince Vieluf’s catchphrase-friendly janitor/philosopher would be a hit with a much larger audience than just people who look for strange little indies on Netflix Instant. For all its psychedelic craziness, Dizzle eschews the opaqueness and ambiguity of its “weird movie” brethren in favor of accessibility. People will leave it savoring the characters and moments, allowing the themes and symbols to settle in, rather than trying to “figure it out.” That’s extremely unexpected from a movie in which men defecate luminous blue fish.

Jeff Hart:  It’s definitely a credit to Little Dizzle that the weirdness never overwhelms the narrative. However, I’m not as confident as Jeremiah that the film would appeal to an audience larger than us Netflix indie trawlers. Ignoring the bombardment of trippy and unsettling imagery, not to mention the fluorescent butt-fish, this is still a film about characters very much inhabiting the fringes of society. I don’t think Dory and his crew of fellow janitors would be particularly sympathetic to a mainstream audience. They don’t have to be. Little Dizzle is a film for the open-minded and experimental amongst us. It tells a compelling and effecting story with a dark sense of humor and visual flair to spare. It’s extremely weird, maybe even a little alienating, but it’s also a total success.

What does writer/director David Russo have to say about organized religion?

Jeremiah White:  Religion is a frequent and easy target for filmmakers. Little Dizzle takes a few predictable shots at religion (the slick televangelist, the horrible girl that Dory goes off on at the beginning having Jesus hanging up in her cubicle). But overall, Russo seems less interested in disparaging religion than he is in deflating it. Dory’s rapid-fire test-drives of the major religions is a search for meaning. He doesn’t talk about his experiences, and we only see glimpses, but there is no indication that he finds anything sinister or even particularly distasteful about them. They just don’t feel right. The fact that Dory finds the meaning he is looking for in his job as a night janitor could be viewed as a slight against religion, but I view it as a reflection of Dory’s character. In Little Dizzle, religion isn’t a spiritual calling or a way of life, it’s just another hobby.

Jeff Hart:  Although Russo certainly makes light of nearly every organized religion in existence, I didn’t view Dory’s spiritual sampling to be a critique. Dory’s a lonely young man groping not just for meaning in life, but for a source of human kindness. All religions ostensibly preach to love one another, which is all Dory seems to want from the world, but after every brief conversion he finds the people around him unchanged. When he finally ends up rocking his Nietzsche inspired “God is Dead” shirt, it’s both comical and tragic. It’s no coincidence that his butt-fish comes soon after.

Daddies.

What about corporate America? What does Russo have to say about that?

Jeff Hart:  Russo might avoid criticizing organized religion, but the same certainly can’t be said about corporations. At best, working in an office is portrayed as the kind of soul-crushing life-waster that causes otherwise normal young men to jump up and down on their cube-mate’s cell phones. Dory’s rant about phones breaking apart the brotherhood of man can be broadened into a charge against all corporate culture. The idea that a cookie company can operate in such an insidious fashion, toying with our bodies without repercussion – I’m particularly fond of when Dory begins hallucinating ingredients like high fructose corn syrup on his shower walls – could seem screamingly paranoid. And yet, it all had the ring of truth to me. Beware the cookie makers and their gentle acronyms for intestinal parasites.

Jeremiah White:  The “oven fresh” cookies are intended to remind consumers of family and childhood. To make them feel warm, fuzzy and safe. The company is exploiting our fears about the big, scary world out there and our desire for safety and stability. That seems representative of Russo’s feeling about corporate America as a whole. The cookies don’t hold any nostalgic power over Dory, however; his mom never made cookies like this. It’s only the instant gratification and the addictive chemicals that appeal to him. Much like the regular paychecks are all that appeal to him about office work. Dory isn’t a straight shooter with upper management written all over him. He scoffs at the initial offer of janitorial work, but quickly swallows his pride, and ultimately finds more fulfillment cleaning offices than working in them. In Russo’s world, corporate employment is a drug, the effects of which hide its true ugly, artificial nature.

What would you do if you gave butt-birth to a Little Dizzle?

Jeff Hart:  Start working on a Little Dizzle sibling. Don’t want the little guy to be lonely.

Jeremiah White:  I'd flush it down the toilet. I don't hold onto anything that comes out of my butt.

News:

Adieu.

Another One Bites The Dust: Last week I wrote a frightened and somewhat impassioned piece about two anti-piracy bills which were making their way through our political channels and threatening the sanctity of the Internet itself. Thankfully, due to nationwide protests, online petitions, and various forms of Internet activism, said legislation has been shelved for the foreseeable future and postponed indefinitely. Of course these small victories have not, and will not, deter the corporate and Federal sectors from continuing to battle online piracy, which has been made evident by the insanity that surrounded last week’s Megaupload shutdown, and the fallout it caused.

Federal prosecutors issued a 72 page indictment last Thursday which led to the shutdown of one of the web’s largest peer to peer file-sharing sites. Launched back in 2005, Megaupload quickly became one of the most popular destinations for people interested in swapping all forms of media. The site was initially intended to be used as a tool for web-based collaboration, but over time, as the world’s bandwith increased, it became a haven for digital piracy. Back in December of last year, the website encountered some trouble with Universal Music Group for releasing a music video featuring many of the label’s signed artists (Kanye, Diddy, Alicia Keys, Swiss Beatz) praising the website and its growth. Looking back on it that video was, without question, the first line of Megaupload’s death sentence.

Fast forward to last week. The indictment is issued, the site is taken down, and (as you would expect) hacktivists groups like Anonymous kick things up a notch (yes, that was totally an Emeril quote. BAM!!!) by attacking the websites of Universal Music Group, the Recording Industry Association of America, the Motion Picture Association of America, and even the Department Of Justice. All of this well deserved Internet malfeasance was enough to inconvenience the agencies involved for a short time, but the sites were all back to normal by the weekend, and the alleged hacking did nothing to change the Megaupload situation.

Awww.

Things then got crazy over the weekend as New Zealand authorities swarmed the mansion of Megaupload founder Kim Dotcom, in order to apprehend him and bring him to “justice.” According to a report from Reuters, dozens of police officers (some in helicopters) raided the German programmer's home, where they found him in his safe room with a loaded shotgun in his possession. One of the New Zealand officials involved in the raid told Reuters: "Despite our staff clearly identifying themselves, Mr. Dotcom retreated into the house and activated a number of electronic-looking mechanisms." Police apparently had to cut their way into parts of the home, where they seized two other firearms and more than twenty cars, some sporting vanity plates like HACKER, MAFIA, and STONED.

As I mentioned before, there has been considerable fallout from the demise of Megaupload. The New York Times has reported that other file-sharing sites are taking precautionary measures to avoid becoming the next victim of Federal prosecutors. Popular peer to peer sites such as Filesonic, Fileserve, FileJungle, UploadStation, 4shared, VideoBB, VideoZer, UploadBox, and Uploaded.to, among others, have overhauled their services to stop allowing public sharing, stop allowing U.S. users, or completely shutting down in some cases. These actions and contingencies do not bode well for Americans who wish to continue engaging in file-sharing, or otherwise enjoying the Interent’s spoils (yeah, I’m talking to you).

U.S. authorities are calling the Megaupload raid “one of the largest copyright cases in history” and some industry big-wigs have already taken the opportunity to crow about the shutdown. The RIAA’s Vice President of Strategic Data Analysis, Joshua P. Friedlander, even wrote a blog-post (how “with it”) titled “Why Closing Megaupload Matters”; you can read it here if you must, but if I were you I would be busy online doing “whatever” before it’s too late (wink, wink).

Why does this cat have different colored eyes?

I Feel Better Already: For the last couple of weeks I have been experiencing a very sharp pain in my temples, which has been accompanied by involuntary shaking and a near constant fever. I went to my doctor, eager to find out what the source of my affliction was, but he was stumped. After numerous other trips to equally helpless medical professionals, I was laying in bed one night, unable to sleep due to my maladies, when it struck me! Other than some random reviews, I have not written about Odd Future for a while, and a malevolent combination of the blogosphere and zeitgeist was making me sick as a result (the life of a music journalist is brutal). So here it goes...

The controversial California rap-collective has announced a string of North American tour dates beginning this March, which will be sure to bring out all of your town’s miscreants and racially-confused white-kids. Each stop on the tour will be accompanied by an "Odd Future pop-up store" (I am not really sure what that means, and I don’t care, but this graphic is interesting) which I am sure will gladly help you part from your parent's money. These tour dates also happen to coincide with the scheduled release (March 20th) of OF Tape Vol.2, the follow-up to their self-titled 2008 mixtape, and the premiere of the groups live-action Adult Swim show Loiter Squad (March 25th). In fact, according to Adult Swim, every stop on the tour will feature a sneak-peak at the premiere for those of you who can’t wait for its television debut.

That’s not all kids! Some of your favorite members of Odd Future are even releasing solo albums this year (joy!). The leader of the Wolf Gang himself, Tyler The Creator, is set to drop his sophomore solo record this May, while the duo of Hodgy Beats and Left Brain (also known as Mellowhype) is planning a late summer release for the followup to 2011’s Blackenedwhite. All of these irons in the fire will insure that Odd Future remains a vital part of the music conversation in 2012 which, I am sure, must please some of you, though I have a difficult time understanding why. There. I have informed you about your heroes, and I hope that makes you feel better... I know I do, my fever’s even starting to break (huzzah).

Reviews:

Fallen Empires - Snow Patrol

Fallen Empires is the sound of a band frantically trying to be everything that has been somewhat successful over the past decade, while not doing any of it particularly well. In truth, this album exists in the gray desolate plane of artistic purgatory known as mediocrity which, while always an unenviable circumstance, is made so much worse when you can hear the band trying so hard... [Full Reivew]

Attack On Memory - Cloud Nothings

Attack On Memory is a lean eight track, 34 minute salvo of arty pop-punk which channels an energy both propulsive and immediate, all while maintaining the era’s prerequisite amount of acerbity. You need to go out now, and get this record. Oh, and do yourself a favor, listen to it through some headphones, while doing something really fast, like riding a bike or running from something... [Full Review]

16th Notes:

I can't wait for the memes.

Radiohead has contributed an astounding fourteen tracks from their back catalog to the documentary film The Island President, which chronicles the struggles of Maldives President Mohamed Nasheed as he fought to have his voice heard in the climate change debate and keep his country from being swallowed by the surrounding ocean. If Radiohead feels so strongly about a film, then we all should... While hanging out (and being awesome) at the Sundance Film Festival this week, Drake told VH1 news that he would love to play President Obama in a bio-pic (though to be clear, there is nothing in the works as of this Clef Notes). I can see it now- in fact, I am already on line for this movie... According to numerous reports, Fiona Apple will be releasing her first new album in six years sometime in 2012. I’ve actually always been a Fiona Apple fan, and I’m looking forward to this record, so let’s skip the joke... ABBA is set to release their first new song in 18 years on the reissue of their 1981 album The Visitor. Somewhere your mom is totally losing her shit... The US Postal Service announced that they will be releasing a commemorative Miles Davis stamp in the near future. I was going to write some line about how those stamps would be the coolest thing you licked all year but, let’s face it, no one sends letters anymore... St. Vincent has announced tour dates for the coming months. You owe it to yourself to see her in person, hear her music, and fall in love... Benji and Joel Madden (formerly of Good Charlotte, lolz) introduced their new band The Madden Brothers to the world this week. If you support this project in any way, the music fairy will creep into your house in the middle of the night and steal your ears... Steven Tyler got a lot of criticism thrown his way this week because he sang the National Anthem exactly like you would expect Steven Tyler to. I don’t really get the issue here. Did anyone expect the man to come out and be Pavarotti?... The oft-maligned musical atrocity that we all know as Nickelback took to Twitter this week in an effort to reply (at times rather scathingly) to some of their haters on the popular social network. I think the Canadian crap-group just needs to realize that we would all leave them alone if they just went away... Um... Miley Cyrus was really excited by a giant penis cake which was presented to her during her 19th birthday party. At least she is a mature adult these days... Before you go any further, you have to check out the teaser-clip for the upcoming Die Antwoord record Ten$ion. Trust me, it’s more disturbing than you are imagining...

Top Ten List:

I really wanted to do a Top Ten List of Mike Patton songs, because today is his birthday. For over a decade I have been a fan of the absurdly talented singer and multi-instrumentalist throughout the litany of his bands and musical projects (Mr. Bungle is AMAZING), but Eddie Van Halen was born yesterday, and that Dutch six-string virtuoso is one of the greatest musicians to ever live.

Born in 1957, Eddie Van Halen often tells a story about how his teenage friends would try to get him to hang-out, drink, and engage in the recklessness of youth. Each time, he would decline the invitation and sit on his bed with headphones on while playing scales and wood-shedding endlessly. I don’t know what the fate of his friends were, but I am pretty sure they won’t be on the Mount Rushmore of guitar playing. Here now are the ten best Van Halen songs.

10) Mean Streets
9) Right Now
8) Spanish Fly
7) Hot For Teacher
6) Jump
5) Runnin’ With The Devil
4) Unchained
3) Panama
2) Ain’t Talking About Love
1) Eruption

Track Of The Week:

Hands On The Wheel - School Boy Q (Ft. A$AP Rocky): The frontal lobe is an extremely important part of the human brain which governs decision making, problem solving, and the control of purposeful behavior. Every now and again some of us use this division of the cerebral cortex to raise a bottle, or other intoxicating agent, in an effort to (as the song Piano Man says) forget about life for a while. Well, School Boy Q and A$AP Rocky are obviously the kind of gentlemen who engage in such practices to a degree that would leave your average person comatose. School Boy’s latest single, Hands On The Wheel, off his upcoming record Habits & Contradictions, is the type of ode to getting faced (or “abducted” as the kids say these days) that I’m sure some out there would consider heedless... but I consider a track of the week. I hope that you enjoy the cut but, please, listen responsibly.