Another podcast episode is ALIVE!

Totally forgot to mention that there is a lovely new episode of Camel Ike a Rock E.T. for you to listen to and download, or either/or. So dig it, kids. DIG IT.

The greatest Kinks album of all!

The Kinks have been rightly revered in rock history as one of those Important bands you should get into if you're a Serious Rock Fan.  Though the band's career has followed the pattern of a sine wave, you can't argue with their legacy.  There were the early, ragged distorto-hits like "You Really Got Me," which then gave way to Ray Davies' constant studies of the Everyman and Hipster ("Dead End Street"; "Dedicated Follower of Fashion).  The band found superstardom in the early '70s with "Lola," then commenced on releasing decent stuff and absolute crap, with the occasional still-rockin' hit single, and even managed to make some kids think they were an '80s one-hit wonder ("Come Dancing").  Through it all, the band has managed to remain...if not vital or interesting at all times, Ray Davies has refused to go away.  More power to him, even if he decides to have his old chestnuts sung by choirs these days.

Now we can sit here and discuss the Kinks' greatest LP and bat about the usual titles such as Something Else or Arthur or Face to Face, etc.  But I declare that the greatest album the Kinks ever released was the fantastic double LP compilation The Kink Kronikles.  Sure, it doesn't have those early hits such as "All Day and All of the Night," but kicking off with the stomping "Victoria" from Arthur, the thing never lets up.  It takes in album tracks ("Shangri-La"; "Holiday in Waikiki"), big hits ("Lola"; "Apeman"), and absolute treats that were previously not captured on the LP format ("Berkeley Mews").

Even better, this is perhaps the greatest "best-of" collection ever released as well.  Anyone with even a passing interest in the Kinks should listen to this and become bowled over by just how good Ray Davies was in his prime.  Stuff like "Did You See His Name?" and "Sunny Afternoon" are classic snapshots of '60s UK history.  Then you also get favorites like "Waterloo Sunset" and "Days" that still manage to shatter the hell out of 98% of contemporary sweet tunes of these times.  And who could argue with the absolute rock of "King Kong" or better-than-the-Beatles "Polly"?  It's all here.

It introduced me to the Something Else, Village Green Preservation Society, and Arthur albums.  And honestly, after hearing those albums, great as they are, none of them stacked up to the pure listening satisfaction that The Kink Kronikles offers.  So yeah.  Go buy this and dig into it and wallow around in the rich, brainy goodness of Ray Davies.  It made me want to write songs like his.  I completely failed.

Reuniting with an old friend.

Do that to me one more time.

I've always loved video games. The first video game system I ever played was a goofy Coleco Pong game that my dad bought for us back in the '70s. It ran on six C cell batteries, was in black and white and was one solidly-molded toy with the controller knobs built-in. I played that thing to death, even bothering to learn how to play for both players when I had no one to play with me. Yep, I became my own A.I.

So through the years the gaming continued. Next up was the Atari 2600, then a Commodore VIC-20, replaced with the great old Commodore 64, then the Nintendo Entertainment System, the Super Nintendo, the Sony PlayStation and PlayStation 2, and finally the Microsoft Xbox 360. Oh, there was also a GameBoy Advance and a GameCube briefly in there as well.

I was a diehard PlayStation fan for years, but when the original PlayStation 3 debuted at a price of six-hundred smackers, I jumped the ship and started courting Microsoft. And that was pretty much it. You could never convince me to go back to Sony or Nintendo. I didn't care for Nintendo's 64 system, or the GameCube that much, and I wasn't being wowed by Sony's song and dance anymore. So for the past four years, it's been nothing but the 360.

We used to hang out a lot.

A couple years back, my ex-wife gad managed to snag a Nintendo Wii for herself and our kid. This was still when Wiis were hard to get. She thought he'd have a lot of fun with it, but that didn't wind up being the case. I had given him my old PS2, and he loved playing on the 360 as well, that the Wii just didn't have any appeal, and my ex wasn't bowled over by it, either. So I helped her sell the thing on Craigslist and life went on.

That is, until recently, when I kept telling my kid how great the old NES and SNES was and the fantastically fun games that there were on those systems. I scoured eBay and almost bought an NES and then an SNES, but I never got around to it. In the past, I had gone through a nostalgic Atari phase and had bought an old 2600 and a ton of games in one big lot and then was instantly bored by it after five minutes, so I had fears that the same thing might happen again. Maybe the memories were better than the actual experiences.

Tax time rolled around and I filed early this year and got back a nice little bit. Last year, I had to pay a few hundred, so I was happy to actually get some money to play with this time. But what to use it on? And then I started thinking about the Wii. Maybe enough years had passed where they had a good collection of games to try. I had been getting my kid into some simpler games on the Xbox (he's good at the tougher ones, but I was getting nostalgic), and also playing stuff like "Viva Pinata" and really enjoying it.

So I researched the Wii and the games that were now available and figured I'd give it another shot. I love my "Call of Duty" and "Rock Band" and "Gears of War" and all those other things the Xbox has done right, but lately I was feeling like maybe it was a good time to revisit a gaming world which is more about whimsy and having fun and less about brutal competition and blowing everything up. That's not a dig at what the 360 offers; I love all that stuff, but I also remember loving the games I grew up with and all those previous experiences that kept me gaming to this day.

So yesterday I went and bought myself a black Wii and some games, extra controllers, some Nintendo points, and some goofy sports accessories that my son said he would like because his one friend had all those things on his Wii. I set the system up, created my Mii that looks like me and started looking around the Virtual Console. I snagged "Super Mario Bros.," "Donkey Kong Country," and the original "Punch-Out!" Then I added a few more points and bought some other games. This was great! All the classics I wanted, plus a bunch of new games that also turned out to be plenty of fun.

Good times roll.

I was thrilled. My gut feeling that enough time had probably passed for Nintendo to firmly establish the Wii, rather than it just being the toy no one could get their hands on for a while turned out to be correct. It goes real well with the 360, too. I know the limitations of the Wii, so for it I will get games pretty much made for it. All my "Call of Duty" and zombie blasting needs can be covered with the 360, as well as "Rock Band." Christ, I've already spent enough on that, that there's no way I'd get it for two systems, and besides I heard it's kinda gimped on the Wii, anyway.

But it's nice to be back in this fold of fun gaming and silliness. I feel less tense playing the Wii. I really enjoy "Wii Sports Resort" and the Frisbee game where you through your disc to a dog who brings it back. And yeah, that little bit of exercise I'm going to be getting swinging the hell out of the controllers is gonna make me buff, ladies. Awwww yeah.

New podcast episode is cooked and ready!

Hey hey!  Go have a listen to "Dudu mustash kup" over at ye official Camel Ike a Rock E.T. podcast page. Dig it!

My sister proved me right regarding my thoughts two posts back.

Album of the Year?  Outrageous!  Not.

Yesterday I was doing my usual Facebooking when I saw that my sister (a Boomer, no less) had made a post about how she couldn't believe that The Arcade Fire won the Grammy for Album of the Year.  She wondered how this could happen when there were so many other, "real" musicians out there who, I suppose, deserved it more.  I responded by saying that while the band is not a fave of mine, their popularity with their fans doesn't make them any less "real."

She then went on to cite Mumford and Sons, who did their little thing and then helped back up a groaning, growling Bob Dylan.  Now, you have to understand that my sister has basically claimed that she prays at the "altar of Bob Dylan."  I like Dylan myself, though I wouldn't choose the coot as any preferred rock deity to prostrate myself before.  And his performance was downright dull.  Mumford and Sons, on the other hand, are exactly the kind of folksy type of stuff my sister has always dug, which is fine.  You like who you like.

And as I said in my post about rock criticism, my age group can't be appeased these days because we're out of the market, which leaves us to bitch about the good old days, "real music," and the like that my sister's own ageism gladly spewed forth.  My original statement was satirical, mind you.  But her Facebook buddies were quick to chime in how they "didn't get it," either and had to turn off the TV.  Really?  You would think that with statements like that The Arcade Fire were some kind of dim-witted, no-talent hacks that were busy dry humping the wallets of all their fans.  But that isn't the case at all.  Though they don't exist in my music collection, having heard some of their stuff and seen what they can do, I'm not about to sit there and deny that they have talent and staying power.

"We're legit because we're REAL."  Oh, really?  How nice.

But my sis made the facetious remark of "In whose universe do they think they compare" to the likes of Mumford and Sons, et al.  Well, firstly, it's two different types of music.  You can't really compare a folkier group to a modern indie rock band.  Secondly, spouting such opinions just sort of proves that the listener can't be bothered with much that falls outside of their own musical safety zone.  To be sure, my sister even wondered how her 21-year-old son could think Lady Gaga was good.  Again, she misses the point.  And Lady Gaga is good.  She's going to be around for a nice, long time.

Now there's plenty of bands and artists I don't care for.  I enjoy getting a bash in on the likes of Radiohead or Bruce Springsteen at times.  But I don't not understand why those artists' fans love their music.  I can't fucking stand Nirvana and get tired of hearing their fans go on and on about how Kurt Cobain was a "genius," when he really wasn't, but there's no denying the impact the band had and the changes in musical climate that occurred when they came on the scene.

To growl or not to growl?  Wait, are you Tom Petty?

Truth be told, as I've gotten older, I've softened my approach.  There were times when I felt my opinions of music were "better" than others and that the stuff I listened to had more validity.  But good or bad, music is something that resonates with everyone in an individual way.  Why get "upset" about the likes of Justin Bieber?  He's corny, yeah, but the kid's made his mark, his money, and his fame.  It's not like he's going to just say, "OK, I'm done."  So it goes with all these other artists.  Pondering what made them popular or why their fans dig them isn't such a big mystery.  Pop music fashion is cyclical.  I've heard Dylan; I'd be more apt to dig a little deeper into The Arcade Fire's catalogue with some sincere listening and see if there isn't something I really liked.

By the way, my sister also really liked Michael Bolton at one point.

Metropolis...again!

One of my all-time favorite films is Fritz Lang's Metropolis. I'm not quite sure why. I mean, I'm not quite sure how it came to be that way, but it did at some point in my life. I guess I'm thinking that's slightly remarkable given the different versions of the film that I first saw.

Having done some of my growing up in the '80s, it was Giorgio Moroder's version of the film that I first saw. I remember renting it at the local mom and pop video joint and taking it home, watching it and being impressed to a degree. Though, I don't think the story held much of anything for me at the time. Of course, I also didn't know much about the history of the film, that it had been severely edited in all sorts of different versions and that this editing happened fairly soon after the movie made its debut in 1927.

My first visit was via this version.

 

Sometime after that, I found a VHS version at a local Kmart for about five bucks. I was excited, because I thought it was the version I had previously seen. Alas, it was not. This one was released by the always craptastic Goodtimes Home Video company. It ran a long 120 minutes, but the quality was absolutely terrible, with many of the shots' frames being entirely off-kilter and the intertitles being completely unreadable. Still, there was something about it that fascinated me.

When I got my first DVD player in the late '90s, yet another budget version of the film made it into my new DVD collection. Again, it was a horrible mess and the orchestral score made for it sounded like it was recorded on cheap synths. This was undoubtedly the worst version I had ever seen. But I kept coming back to the film, and a few years back I wound up getting Kino International's beautifully restored 2001 version that was seemingly as complete as it was ever going to get.

So the other night I'm at Best Buy, and I'm about ready to check out, when lo and behold in a new release DVD bin I see The Complete Metropolis, again released by Kino and now with an additional 25 minutes of footage restored, bringing the film almost completely back to its original running time. A two-disc set for 20 bucks. I was sold and bought Metropolis yet again.

This is the one you want.

It's a wondrous movie, if you're in to such things. I won't go into the whole history and detail of the thing, but if you're into film and you've never seen this one, then this latest edition is the one to have. It's influenced countless other film makers, designers, architecture, pop stars, you name it. Its dystopian narrative still feels fresh, but more than that Metropolis also feels like it's still 100 years into the future. Thanks, Kino.

Another (Rock) Blog Bites the Dust

Yesterday the news came that the music section of an online entertainment mag I've been writing for since 2005 was going to be permanently disabled. Yep, we rock critics weren't bringing in the readers. I can't say I was surprised. In today's big fun world of Everything Internet, rock criticism seems almost archaic. The question is does anyone really care in general?

Today's modern popular music has become such a generic commodity that there's really no reason to report on it at length. Not to say it's all bad. Hell, I can't resist Katy Perry most days. The gal cranks out some legitimately catchy stuff. But with the majority of the Top 40 being constantly fucked by an Auto-Tune program with no protection, what difference does it make if I, or countless other critics bother to write it up and score it?

I started my music critic career in 2000. By 2001, I was writing for a couple of popular online music mags and running my own. It was fun and it felt necessary. I got to enjoy a hell of a lot of cool music I would have never heard otherwise, and became fast friends with a lot of the groups and artists I championed. I even got to talk to some of my all-time heroes such as Maureen Tucker, Ralph Steadman, Bruce Campbell and the like. This was before everyone and his brother was blogging about music (like I'm doing right here), and there was still a spot where you could stand out amongst the crowd.

My old bible.

But times change and tastes shift and the music business shot itself in both feet with not knowing how to adapt to the mp3 revolution. iPods and mp3 players took prominence as the way to listen to music and suddenly we're back pre-Beatles time when the single ruled the airwaves and not the album. Yeah, the '70s have long been over, kids. I couldn't even tell you the last time I just sat down and listened to some new album and didn't feel my finger itching to hit the "next" button to speed up the process. When I was younger, I would have sat down and listened to every damn song intently. I still do with old albums. But new stuff? It's like I've gone back to when I was getting a two-dollar a week allowance as a kid and buying whatever awesome 45 I had to have.

The Internet has also proven that the glory days of rock criticism are pretty much D.O.A. My biggest influence before I got into doing the gig was the original Rolling Stone Record Guide with the red cover put out in the '70s. There were tons of hilarious reviews in it for classic albums, often summed up in one or two tossed-off sentences. It's funny how decades and newer writers can make a difference. Hell, in that book The Beatles' Let it Be got the rating it actually deserved. Now everyone tends to give it four or five stars. Why? Just because it's a Beatles album, that's why.

But back when people actually gave a shit to get their music info from the likes of Rolling Stone, Creem, and later on in Spin and Q, you could count on some decent-to-great reviewing. These days we're so programmed into having our music fix dialed in at the push of a button that reading a review about it seems more of an afterthought. It's the whole "adapt or die" conundrum. And do I even care what some dude on the Internet thinks about the latest song or disc I may or may not be enjoying? Not anymore.

This man would still give a shit.

Music reviewing has, by and large, become robotic and lazy. We're getting far enough away from "the classics" these days that it's all the easier to just shit out the thoughts and claim the paycheck (if there happens to be one). But that's OK by me. I don't care if I ever read another book on '60s rock, either. It's been done, it's been said, and there's not very much to discuss when it comes to the grooves of the day. Getting caught up in celeb's trash a-la Britney Spears hardly has anything to do with any music. Watching U2 or Kanye West climb the charts with their latest offering as expected is nothing worth talking about anymore.

Music sales are way down. Old farts like me can't be appeased because the labels only want to cater to zit-faced kids who move on to whatever weekly next big thing they are offered. So we sit around and spin our old crap that we grew up on, saying the same old shit like, "Music nowadays is just garbage. They don't play their instruments at all, and have other people write their songs!" Which is funny, because the generation before mine was saying the exact same thing when their favorites were old as well.

But yeah, I place more value in a movie or video game review than I do in one for music. I don't care how great the latest and greatest might be, just like some kid doesn't give a crap about how much I enjoy Trout Mask Replica. Like a record spinning backwards, we have moved almost completely away from the center and off the map entirely. Yet it might all be for the good. Seeking out new frontiers might just be what we all need.

Postscript:  I suppose I should clarify that what I'm talking about being "over" here is writing and reading current album reviews.  Writing and discussing music the way I do on this blog is something I still very much enjoy, obviously.  But the whole mechanism of breaking an album down per song and then ascribing it a number of stars or whatever holds no meaning for me anymore.  

New podcast episode is alive!

Mmhmm. Just in time for Valentine's Day. Please enjoy "No biscuit for Pancho!" over at the Camel Ike a Rock E.T. podcast. More lovely tunes regurgitated in an easy to understand format.

Dark Side of the Sell-Out

The last time Roger Waters ever smiled.

I like when the kiddies boast about how their favorite bands have never "sold-out."  One such band in particular that often comes up with the brats that know it all is Pink Floyd.  But ha ha, charades you are!  Back in '73, Dole Bananas somehow got ye olde Pink Floyd to let 'em use "The Great Gig in the Sky" from The Dark Side of the Moon for the following TV ad. 

Hey man, "If you feel it...peel it."

Joni Mitchell is Nucking Futs

By the time she got to Woodstock, the brown acid had taken over.

Hey kids, do you remember Joni Mitchell? Well, if you don't, her big claim to fame with the younger generations is that she wrote "Big Yellow Taxi" way back when, a song that continues to be covered and re-covered by anyone who wants an instant, lazy hit. Everyone from Dylan to the Counting Crows have covered it. Of course, Joni doesn't think much of Bob these days, saying,

Bob is not authentic at all. He's a plagiarist, and his name and voice are fake. Everything about Bob is a deception. We are like night and day, he and I. (This is actually old news; check out the interview in which she says this.)

Anyway, to get to the point of this post, in recent years Joni has claimed that she is a victim of what is known as "Moregellons Syndrome," a so-called "disease" that supposedly causes those who have it to scratch areas of their skin uncontrollably to dig out microscopic fibers that may or may not be of some nano-technological origin.

Wacko, I know.

There's plenty of info online regarding said "disease," with most of it coming from conspiracy theorists and the like. Actual legitimate research has gone into this folly, with the expected results. Per the disease's Wikipedia entry, "Most doctors, including dermatologists and psychiatrists, regard Morgellons as a manifestation of known medical conditions, including delusional parasitosis.

And before we start scuttling about the usual jokes about Wikipedia being "unreliable," let's just remember exactly what we're talking about here and the folks who claim that it is, in fact, "real."

My suggestion to cure this incurable is to not listen to any Joni Mitchell music. You probably don't want to handle any of her CDs, LPs, tapes, or what have you, either. Those damn fibers could be anywhere, be it in the sound waves of her music or planted on the CD booklets at the factories just waiting to strike upon unsuspecting fans in a true game of GOTCHA that can only end badly.

Joni Mitchell is nucking futs.

Bobby Conn

Bobby Conn is one of my fave "fringe" rock artists. Hailing from Chicago, Illinois, Conn has been cranking out terrifically creative work since his self-titled debut in 1997. The dude actually rocks harder and, yes, better than 98% of your well-known dinosaurs. You always have to leave that two percent margin. I dunno why.

At any rate, here are two of my favorite Conn performances. The first is for "Never Get Ahead" on Chicago's kid-friendly dance show "Chic-A-Go-Go" (I believe this is the same show that once spun a Jandek tune for the kids to groove to), and the second is a live rockin' version of "You've Come a Long Way, Baby." Enjoy. And buy some Bobby Conn while you're at it.

I know, I know...where's the blogging?

Right, I get it.  I'm terrible at blogging.  I promise I'll get my shit together.  My excuses include that the ridiculous amount of snow and ice we've gotten where I live has driven me kooky and I've lost track of the things I enjoy.  Of course, that's not entirely true as my time on Call of Duty: Black Ops and Rock Band 3 has remained the same.  Besides, it's DOUBLE XP WEEKEND on BLOPS.  I know you don't care.  You don't need to.

At any rate, I have a new podcast going with the same title as this place.  Yep!  I used to run one not long ago called "Sniff the Tip."  After three years of grooving, I dismantled it.  Took about a year off, and once I got this thingy going, I thought it'd be good to being back the podcast as well.  Anyway, it's just a lovely bunch of tunes in each episode.  No talking or any of that nonsense to distract you.

So check out the podcast at Camel Ike a Rock E.T. Two episodes have gone up so far, with many more in the future. A show a week at least.

So enjoy, and we'll be getting back to our regularly scheduled shizz here as well. Danke