Searching for Satori

Sitting on an outcropping overlooking a sea of black, a single light flickers and grows brighter over a cacophony of sound. Satori has been found. A thinning individual enters the light and the sea erupts, teeming with energy. Your perch forgotten, you dive head first into the sea itself and are willingly swallowed by the abyss. This is Bauhaus.

Last night I caught the Bauhaus show at the Warfield in San Francisco. Granted, it's 2005 and this is the second (third?) comeback tour, but those thoughts were all but forgotten as the show began. For all intents and purposes, it was 1983 all over again. With minimal lighting or special effects, the band let the music speak for itself. Peter Murphy, after all this time, still can deliver. Daniel Ash's piercing licks wrapped around David J's "all too funkified for the dark" bass lines crept up from the crypt and sent shivers down my spine. The moment I heard the first note of Hollow Hills, I wanted to prolong that moment of time until the flesh fell from my bones. With one song still reverberating in your ears, they attacked the next song before you even got a chance to register what just happened. No Tones on Tail, no Love and Rockets, just Bauhaus clean, uncut and mainlined directly into your viens.

All in all, an excellent night out, and a perfect way to spend a month dedicated to ghouls, ghosts and goblins. The best part is, within this entire post I never once used the term Goth....... Oh Damn!

Music. n 1: an artistic form of auditory communication incorporating instrumental or vocal tones in a structured and continuous manner 2: any agreeable (pleasing and harmonious) sounds.

Can that definition be any simpler and complex? Music is the universal language. It transcends all barriers created by ego, indifference and strife yet can also be fueled by it. In the most basic terms music is life. Many opinions are swirling regarding music's inception, but this is of no major importance. The truth is music is a living breathing entity all its own. It grabs one's soul and clings to it like a newborn to its mother, protecting and accepting therefore ultimately altering each individual forever. But what constitutes music you ask? Let's look at the second definition above. The word in that sentence that scares me the most is agreeable. Can music be as simple as a child slamming a spoon onto a pot? Or does a fifty piece orchestra have to be present? You see, that word used in that context can be akin to giving an arsonist a book of matches. He's going to burn everything in sight just because he can. Simply put, if you do not agree with what the majority considers "music" then you must be an idiot. Now we finally come to the subject at hand. I find that the majority of popular music polluting the airwaves, cd players, car stereos and television is nothing more than the business of making money. Scan the aural landscape and all you see is throwaway formulaic bands like trash littering up a freeway onramp. Flavors of the month that won't even last as long as the gas in their Escalade's tank. But like lemmings we throw ourselves over the side of the cliff without a second thought. How else can you explain American Idol's popularity?

But there is hope. Just beneath the surface a movement is in a constant state of eruption. I'm referring to the musical snob. The one who takes their music seriously. Doesn't settle for the quick fix. Always on the prowl for that hidden diamond in a haystack full of cow shit. To become a musical snob one must turn a deaf ear to the mass production of tripe being burned onto disc by the devil himself. This is what this list is for. A travel companion to guide you through the stormy shark infested waters of the musical mainstream. So cinch on your life jacket, take your Dramamine and try not to fall out of the boat.

*A word regarding this list. This is a list in four parts. Albums by bands like The Beatles, Marvin Gaye, etc. have been omitted. For these are considered staples in any well rounded musical collection. So don't bitch if you don't see Dark Side of the Moon on here, since it's just a given. This is not to be considered a top 100 either. These are just 100 albums every snob should own.

The Stooges: LP
The year is 1969. It's the height of the psychedelic era. Jimi Hendrix, the Grateful Dead all flowing and dropping hits. Out of the sewers of New York come The Stooges. Listen to this album and think, "it's 1969". Unbelievable. One of the precursors of the late seventies punk movement, Iggy and Co. were lighting a fire underneath every man, woman and child wearing tye dye. If you doubt me, just listen to "I Wanna Be Your Dog" for proof. Album after album, they delivered high power raucous tunes from beneath the grime. And if your only experience of this band and its front man is from commercials, then just stop reading right now and go buy the new album from Weezer. You are not ready. Put this on 10 and get dirty.

Dead Can Dance: The Serpent's Egg
Brendan Perry and Lisa Gerrard somehow managed to tap into a well of sound so ethereal, one wonders if they have shifted into a land where angels and other unworldly creatures dwell. DCD's collective body of work is so amazing it was hard to choose just one. But "The Host of Seraphim" made it a bit easier. This is the song I want played at my funeral. Perry's sonorous moaning completely compliments Gerrard's wafting wails. Listen to this and ponder the existence of all beings. You're bound to discover you are exactly where you should be.

Deathray Davies: Return Of The Drunk Ventriloquist
Take a bit of 60's early British rock (Small Faces, Cream) add a splash of The Jam and a twist of The Fleshtones. Dump all the contents into a fuzzy garage and pour. Best served with a dance floor chaser. A sure fire way to beat the dredge that is Rap-rock. No filler here, just pure ice cold fun. Check out "Square" and "Evaporated" to quench your thirst. The best thing to come out of Texas since, well I'll get back to you.

Ryuichi Sakamoto: Beauty
From the days of the Yellow Magic Orchestra mastermind Sakamoto throws many musical styles (dance, world, traditional, pop etc.) into a large pot and comes out with a stew so delectable, even Gandhi couldn't turn it down. Whether you are strolling through a Zen garden (Chinsagu No Hana) or just watching life unfold before you (Rose Music), Beauty has all the trappings of an album to ease your musical palette. It's too bad the members of Hoobastank have no fucking clue.

Bjork: Post
What? But Bjork's popular you say? I suppose, but this is my list so I can do what I want. I wish I had a dollar for everyone who stated they hated Bjork. I would be a rich man. Avoiding all conventional categories, this Icelandic wunderkind just has to sing over a metronome and I am transported to a land where even the glaciers sway. Let's just throw away the cover of "It's Oh So Quiet". Ok now we have a great record. "Hyper-Ballad's" contemplative visuals draws you in and "Isobel" pins you down and doesn't let you up until you are overwhelmed with joy. Thank god there's nothing to do in Iceland.

Talk Talk: The Colour of Spring
Ok let's just try to forget the butchering Ms. Stefani did to one of their songs and move on. Mark Hollis and company create a garden of lush sounds and melodies it's easy to believe this entire album was recorded barefoot lying in the grass. "Happiness is Easy" opens the album with a soothing bass line easing you into the album effortlessly. Before you know it, you're grooving to the tones wafting through the air like a butterfly on a leisurely journey. The piano in "Life's What You Make It" takes over bass duties and softly hammers the point home. Introspective as well as extroverted, Mr. Hollis just makes it seem so simple. Easy indeed.

X: Wild Gift
Emerging out of the early 80's punk scene X was much more talented then their punk brethren. Poet Exene Cervenka and John Doe's slightly off key harmonies somehow add the missing ingredient into the mixture of pop punk and pure rock and roll. Similarities to Beefheart and the Ramones cannot go unnoticed, but with lyrics like "I'll replace your drunk old man" (White Girl) it's suffice to say they have lyrically matured from the first album. "When Our Love Passed Out On The Couch" exemplifies what everyone has felt when a relationship goes sour. Get out your Docs and skank around the couch as the neighbors downstairs call the cops.

XTC: Nonsuch
It was inevitable that an XTC record was going to show up on this list. No band since the Beatles has captured the ability to blend such a myriad of styles. From jazz to pop, to soul, to blues XTC paints a vivid picture on every song. Lyrical storytellers, messers Partridge and Moulding weave words so effortlessly it's almost a crime. "My Bird Performs" takes flight and from that point on you are soaring over lush green pastures filled with whimsy and happiness. That is until the piano laden "Rook" lands on your shoulder whispering words of mortality in your ear. But like all childhood fears that dissipate at the sun's rising, "Holly Up On Poppy" throws you up on the pony and off you go chasing your innocence. "Books Are Burning" should be a part of every creative writing and language class curriculum. The best band you've never heard. Make sure you change that.

Ben Harper: The Will To Live
Ok, fine. The folk singer comparisons are somewhat justified, but there is so much more to Ben Harper. Blues, jazz, funk and even shades of rock tumble down the hillside into your waiting ears. There's no point in singling out any particular track here since the entire piece should be taken as a whole. A point to remember. He's not Lenny Kravitz. Just another sad example of the industry as well as the masses that backed the wrong horse. Longevity is the key here folks. Mr. Harper will be making beautiful music long after Lenny's contract with the Gap has expired.

David Sylvian: Dead Bees on A Cake
David Sylvian inexorably grabs you by the psyche and glides you through a forest of sound and emotion that's had four years to grow. The album opens with "I Surrender", in essence asking you to do the same. With lyrics born from love realized, you can't help but feel his acceptance. Backed by phenomenal percussionist Steve Jansen, this track thumps like a heartbeat. Ethereal and always smooth, David Sylvian paints the canvas with colors so subtle, before you know it you are covered in pastel and earth tones. The former boy of Japan makes good.

Kraftwerk: Trans Europe Express
The grandfathers of the electronic musical sound. I won't use the term techno, because that reminds me of glow-stick waving oj drinking velvet feeling ravers. Kraftwerk is nothing like this. Although without them 80's rappers would have nothing to sample, ravers nothing to 'feel' to, and Depeche Mode would have still been just a French term. Straight from the fatherland these boys have been a major influence since the mid-seventies. Who else can create an entire song about a train clickty-clacking over a track and make it thump out of your speakers. You cannot go wrong with any Kraftwerk album, but this is a good place to start. The conductor has called your number. Get a drink at the bar car, sit back and watch the hills roll by.

Jeff Buckley: Grace
Sometimes an artist comes along and from the moment you her the first note, you are immediately enthralled. This is Jeff Buckley. An epic album in scope and raw emotion, Buckley throws himself headlong into each and every lyric, chord change and style. Grace is the full length debut from an artist taken from the earth much too soon. Pouring himself into each song you cannot escape the realism in his voice. The longing of "Lover, You Should Have Come Over" is a melancholy tune on the surface, but look underneath and you find a man stripped bare of all pretense and just says simply what he feels. This form of honesty is now a lost art in music today. Maybe his death will teach somebody something. One can always hope.

Cocteau Twins: Treasure
Elizabeth Fraser is not of this world. At least after hearing her stunning voice one imagines her homeland as nothing but light and chimes. The Cocteau Twins have a sound all their own. Three members create a sound some bands with ten could never do. The biggest problem people have with them is the singer herself. "I can't understand her" For you see, Fraser mixes quite a few languages in each song and rolls them all into one choral harmony. The point is not to try and hear words, but listen to her waft over slowly jangling guitars and think of her as just another instrument. When this is achieved then pure musical bliss is sure to follow. Breathy yet powerful, she commands for all to listen. Please do, just not with your head.

The Clash: London Calling
Forget the rules. Forget convention. Forget anything you've ever known about Punk, Reggae, Pop, Jazz, etc. This record spans all those genres. A must own for every snobs collection. Loud, fast, funky, powerful and straight from the political hip, The Clash are straight shooters. They will tell you what's wrong then ask why the fuck are you just sitting there. So get off your Good Charlotte loving ass and see how it's supposed to be done.

Miles Davis: Panthalasa
Not much to say here except.....WOW! There is nothing else you can say or need to. A trail blazer for the new jazz of it's time and he's running hot on all cylinders. Not for the rookie lest you don't mind getting burned.



Bauhaus: Mask
I hate the term Goth. It just lumps everyone who wears black into the same brooding category. By that definition Avril Levine is Goth. Bauhaus is much more than the sum of its parts. With sparse atmospheric guitars, haunting vocals and syncopated rhythms Bauhaus has one foot in the graveyard and the other in the land of Ziggy Stardust. I can't imagine "Hollow Hills", a song about fairy hills and what happens to unsuspecting human travelers who wander into them; ever being played on the radio. With a passion for the minimalistic, Bauhaus somehow manages to create a sound that fills your head with visions of dancing skeletons, and wailing banshees across the moors. Listen with the lights off if you dare.

Dumptruck: Positively
Where REM couldn't seem to go (Shiny Happy People?...please), Dumptruck did it with no fanfare and very little public backing. A great album for the pure pleasure of knowing you are listening to a band much more entertaining than any one band to come out of the south in the late eighties and early nineties. "Nine People explains the awkwardness when the conversation dies down at a party. Every track in this cut is worth about fifteen REM songs. Again the musical machine didn't even notice who was a better band....I guess they picked the wrong one once again. The masses were losing more than their religion by letting this rumbling truck go by without even a passing glance. Well the light is red now, so get out and look at the interior of this fine machine.

Gang Of Four: Entertainment
With buzz saw guitars and very political vocals, The Gang Of Four head up the No Wave movement of the late seventies and early eighties. Andy Gill and company tear their way through all subject matter with a controlled angular abandon. Jerky and funky, GoF has been a major influence on many bands, and rightfully so. They deserve their place in the sun. So line up at the firing squad and shoot to kill all who oppose.

Jellyfish: Bellybutton
These guys were born in the wrong era. Pop music heavily dosed with 60's style psychedelia the band's four part harmonies and catchy melodies just feel good even on a rainy day. The Beatles influence is inevitable, but do not let that distract you from the fun. Grab a paintbrush and flower up your boom box.

This Mortal Coil: Filigree And Shadow
Flowing out of the speakers like smoke, This Mortal Coil is a compilation of artists from the 4AD label. A marriage of artist has never sounded so arresting. With songs like "Strength of Strings" and "Velvet Belly", it's no wonder good music always goes unnoticed. It just does not fit a mass market category. Surrealistic throughout this album leaves you wanting more, even though it's 20 glorious songs. Like a ghost kissing your cheek, you feel a sense of being but can't explain it. Don't, just embrace it.

Laurie Anderson: Big Science
A true test of snobbery is this album from performance artist Anderson. Riddled with minimal melodies and vocalizations of airplane etiquette (From The Air), it's truly and acquired taste. But fear not my avant garde aviators, with the proper ear, this too will grow on you until you are singing along with each song feeling like a Art School superhero. So break out your philosophy book and toss it in the trash. On this flight you won't need it.

The Creatures: Boomerang
Siouxsie Sioux and drummer Budgie were mucking about in the studio one day and had an idea. Let's make a record just the two of us. They did just that. With Siouxsie's haunting vocals and Budgie's jungle style beats, The Creatures were born. With this being their second release the jungle has grown a bit wilder and other instruments were added. Still true to the original formula, this is the vision realized perfectly. All other albums in their library should be held up for scrutiny next to this masterpiece in vocal pipes and percussion. Bang away kids.

Suburban Lawns: 1st
The year is 1981 and Su Tissue and the Suburban Lawns are in the midst of the L.A. punk invasion. Using more of a pop punk style the Lawns had a sense of humor and intelligence most bands of that era did not. Songs like "Flying Saucer Safari" and "Janitor" became huge show favorites. Very musically inclined for a punk band, the S.L. managed to only sneeze out two albums before disbanding in 1983. This recording may be hard to come by, but who said finding good music was easy.

Very soon, part II.

Why me?

Gang of Four has been cancelled. I guess I will mourn the entire day and curse the promoters and all else responsible. Obviously these are not "Great Men".

Sigh..........

Originally posted 9/15/05

Well, another birthday has come and gone and another step closer to who knows what. Yesterday I had to work. No big deal, seeing as how I didn't actually do anything really constructive except in the morning. The rest of the day was spent daydreaming of a year gone by. I usually don't like birthdays. Too much unwanted attention. People who aren't part of your world sending token well wishes of a happy day. It just seems forced and unnatural. But I digress.

Last week a friend of mine called me and asked me if I was going to the Interpol show on the 14th? Well being so busy with other things, I had no idea they were even coming. "Where is it?", I asked. "Freeborn Hall in Davis", he replied. I cringed in my chair after hearing him say that. Freeborn Hall is really nothing more than a college gymnasium. The acoustics are always called into question. There is also no seating. Can these concert veteran legs withstand two hours of sardine-packed standing? Can I listen to pseudo-intellectuals talk about how cool Weezer is while waiting in line? I decided to brave the posers, radio whores and rich suburban kiddies driving mommy's SUV and catch the Ian Curtis & Co. sequel. What could possibly go wrong?

If you haven't heard of Interpol yet, then stop reading this and pick up the latest from My Chemical Romance or the Killers because you aren't ready to appreciate how tight this band actually is. For you hipsters, I am using the term "tight" in regards to their musicianship not how cool they are. Now the band have said that they are unaware of the Joy Division similarities, but one cannot deny it's there in spades. This is not a bad thing. They do much better job at it than NIN ever could. Note: Trent, whatever you do please do not cover another Joy Division song ever again. The opening band was an instrumental band called Bim Boop or Bop something or other. Minimalistic in nature and the only saving grace was the drummer. The keyboard player was more interested in his beverage. While the guitarist had serious popping issues with his equipment. There's nothing like having your eardrums burst at the sound of electronic popcorn sounds every three seconds.

After that fiasco, Missy and my friend Mike decided that was all they could take. With the crowd of about a thousand pushing in tighter; swallowing any unused space, they both made their way to the back leaving George and myself to fend for ourselves. Our small army now down to two. Interpol walked out onto a smoke filled stage and went directly into Next Exit. Not one of my favorite songs of theirs, but a nice way to ease into the gig. The next few songs; all from the current album, sounded amazingly well in Freeborn "Hell". "Not Even Jail" and "Length of Love" were two standouts from Antics. Guitars building to a deafening pitch, as the bass thumped in your chest. All the while the drums were constantly banging out a heartbeat the entire venue could sense and feel as their own. I really enjoyed the songs from the first album, since that is the better album in my opinion. A bit more raw and unpolished, it just seems to hit that much harder blaring at you from a wall of speakers.

There were a few things that did make me want to pull my hair out. The number one being that Sacramento crowds suck. They are uninspired, boring and uneducated about their music. A select few in the crowd were channeling the energy pouring off of the stage. But mostly, the masses stood rigidly in place waiting for god knows what. Another thing that drove me nuts was the premature applause. Interpol is one of those bands that have small breaks and quieter bits in their songs which then build to a crescendo of emotion barrelling like a Mack truck straight towards you at 100 miles per hour. Most of these imbeciles had no clue of the songs themselves, and started hooting and clapping during these breaks; thereby destroying the feeling of anticipation and calm before the storm. Another note is the no camera rule. This archaic enforcement (which isn't enforced at all) should be buried. With cameras so thin as well as phones being able to take photos now, it doesn't make any sense. The camera phone has taken the place of the cigarette lighter at shows in this age of technology. Let people snap away. Most people only want the pictures for themselves anyway. Or for blogging purposes. Hell, that's where my pics are from. My little crappy phone. A digital remembrance of the night's events.

All in all the show was fantastic. Definitely a band worth seeing live. As the show ended in a wall of feedback, I left the venue with a bounce in my step so high even the tinnitus in my ears couldn't dampen my spirits. And to the girl who spent the entire show on the phone talking about nothing......Fuck you!

September 15, 10:30 pm

Originally posted 9/28/05

Well for those of you living under a rock, Serenity is Joss Whedon's Science Fiction movie based on the short-lived series Firefly. I managed to score a couple of free Sneak Preview tickets and took in the show last night. If you have never been to a sneak preview before, then you don't know there's usually something happening a half hour before showtime. These little time killers are usually sponsored by the local radio station or comic book shop. Trivia contests, raffles, all generally for some form of swag. The strangest thing I noticed was the responses to the questions posed by the promotional crew. "Have you ever seen the series?" Only 25 percent of the house raised their hand. "Have any of you ever heard of the series or it's creator?" Same 25. "How many people are here because it's a free movie?" Over 70 percent raised their hand after this question. What the hell? Only 25 to 30 percent had any idea about this movie and it's origins. I couldn't believe it. The point to all this? Well, I heard through the grapevine that the only way a Serenity part two will get made is if the first one makes 80 million. And the fact that this movie is getting very little advertising, it may not make that mark. So, get out and see this movie so they will make another.

Also passed out before the show was this cool teaser poster as well the button shown to the left. With the swag in place and my belly full of popcorn (no urine Jacky), I settled in for a great ride with Serenity and her crew. I do not want to give up any plot developments, but for the sake of those not in the know the movie picks up where the series ended. A crew of mercenaries, travel across the galaxy in search of work, play, money and to protect as well as discover the secrets of a girl named River. All the while avoiding the evils of the government known only as the Alliance who also want River for their own reasons. The entire crew (Malcom, Zoe, Wash, Inara, Jayne, Kaylee, Simon, etc.) are faithfully represented and the dialogue is classic Wheadon with a great sense of humor intermixed with great storytelling. Some serious plot twists and discoveries are present towards the end of the movie which will have you leaving the theater with your mouth open for an hour afterwards. The music was spectacular, as was the visual effects and action.

All you Firefly fans are going to love this movie, and all you non believers you will even like this for the storytelling aspect of it all. It's a great movie and you need to find a way to get down to your local theater and watch what could have been if Fox wouldn't have pulled the plug so early.

P.S. Stop clapping as the credits roll, the director isn't there to hear you anyway.

Originally posted 1/19/05

A trend is growing in the movie business. Diabolical in it's simplicity. A sickness so infectious, it's spread is already upon us. It's slowly eating the industry from the inside out. What is this celluloid cancer I speak of? It holds many names and many disguises. What I speak of is the remake. Also known as the adaptation, update, redo, homage, based on, loosely translated and my favorite the as re-told by. I'm sure you can come up with a few hundred more on your own.
The point being is the American movie machine seems to be doing nothing but regurgitating old ideas and storylines and slapping some shiny new millennium package onto them and Presto!, a new movie for the ages. Before you spew a Siskel like hatred in my direction, let me say this up front. The remake has been in the movie industry in one form or another (as well as from many other artistic formats, which I will list shortly) for a very long time, and has succeeded in some instances. But something changed during the editing process. Something went wrong in Tinseltown. The remakes became a little more frequent and a little less as entertaining as the original. Which is where stand today. Miles upon miles of film dedicated to the remake. Do we really want this trend to continue, to one day open the Sunday paper and find nothing but re-hashes of something we've already experienced? I say nay! "But what can I do?", you ask. Avoid the remake. Avoid it at all costs. If you simply cannot withstand the temptation and hypnotic pull of the brand new shiny old story, then read on, my Silver screen stunted award winners.

Listed below is a simple breakdown of the remake tree and a few of it's larger branches and all their poisonous brambles. Please be aware this is not a definitive chart of how to avoid the remake, but it will help you on your way, unless your way is to avoid all movies at all times, which means you're wasting everyone's time by being here. So sit in the back and be still. And spit out that gum.

Lesson 1:
The Television Remake

The biggest offender (and spreading faster than imitation butter spilled on your pants) is the TV remake. It's a relentless tentacled monster with an insatiable appetite. It squeezes all entertainment value out of many television genres. From sitcoms to cartoons, the movie making brain trusts have found a seemingly limitless fountain of ideas to choose from. But as you know, what may be ok on tv doesn't always work on the larger screen. An idea not yet grasped in Hollywood. Every time you turn around there is a new 'updated' version of a show or cartoon, which by the way just taints the memories one has of tuning in every week as a kid. As if this isn't bad enough, the beast splits heads yet again. From a direct translation (The Flintstones) into the "throw the old characters into the future" setting. The second type has to be the worst. You know what I mean. Let's see if I can think of one........how about.....Fat Albert? Now if they (and by they, I mean everyone but me) want to make a movie on the cartoon Fat Albert, cool. I'm behind that. Because in my mind I'm thinking, "Great! Albert and the gang getting in and out of trouble, playing some junkyard funk, learning a lesson and maybe catch a live action blurb of The Brown Hornet." Alas, no. Set in today's time, it is just an excuse to throw in the Hey! Hey! Hey! vernacular amidst inane jokes and Hip-Hop references/and or cameos. Give me 1970's Fat Albert every time. The Brady Bunch is another example. It doesn't end there. It seems to be another trend to attempt to "funny" up some of the old shows (Starsky & Hutch, Charlie's Angels, and you know there going to do that to the A-team, not that it wasn't funny, wait was that a drama?). I believe the word is kitchy. Spare me. And that's just the beginning. Be on the lookout for Bewitched (Will Farrell as Darren, seriously?), The Six Million Dollar Man (Jim Carry....wouldn't he make a better Darren?), Wonder Woman, and The Honeymooners, starring Cedric the Entertainer. Um, what? Did I hear that right? Isn't that like Sally Struthers playing Louise Jefferson? What's next? Silver Spoons the Movie? The silver (sorry) lining to this is sometimes they get it right (South Park, The Fugitive). So all is not loss. The TV remake has potential, but right now it's just another example of too much of a good thing.

Lesson 2:
The Literary Adaptation

This should really be Lesson 1. The seed planted in my little blogarden was a direct result of the dangerous murky swampland known as the Literary Adaptation. A.K.A. 'from the novel of'. I have always loved books more than movies. I'm biased that way (As opposed to the way I've been up until now). So when I saw a movie being made of one of my favorite stories The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I was both skeptical and excited at first. While navigating to the Official website, I thought how is this going to be possible? Can they convey the humor the book; and to some extent the BBC version, did so effortlessly? Then I see the website's intro page. All shiny and modern, a large blue thumb gleams back at me devoid of any humor. Nervously, I waited as the trailer loaded.......and.....A teaser trailer to be precise. If you've seen it, you'll see where I'm going. Did you even get the sense of what the movie was about, and what kind of tale? I see an apocalypse-end-of-the-world-action-type movie when I see that. I'm afraid the story will be lost in the modern effects plagued by today's movies. Did anyone notice that Marvin (if that is indeed him) shrunk considerably? We arrived at the point (finally). It's a daunting task to turn a book into a movie. Remember I'm biased about this. Let me explain. When Kathy Bates whacked at James Caan's leg with a sledgehammer in Misery, I was disappointed it was changed from the book's version. In the book she used an axe, getting it stuck in the bone. A small change sure, but a much larger one in the scope of the story and character. If the book isn't going to be respectfully re-created then don't bother. The bookworms will know the difference. Peter Jackson knew that. That's why LOTR worked. Shawshank Redemption was also a great translation that worked. Even the dialogue was pretty spot on. But Hollywood rarely gets it right.

Science Fiction stories tend to fare the worst when ripped from their pages with no regard to plot or character. Dune, Sphere, The Time Machine (both versions), The Running Man, Planet of the Apes (all versions) are just a few that have been mutilated. The L.A. knows no genre boundaries either. Jane Eyre, Dracula, Scarlet Letter, Interview with a Vampire, all Shakespeare, is routinely changed to fit the trend of the times. Remember the Romeo and Juliet with Claire Danes and Leonardo D? Awful. Ditto, the martial arts version Romeo must Die. Maybe all the decision makers in Hollywood should actually read the book they're siphoning from. It couldn't hurt, right?

Lesson 3:
The Gaming Glossover

Do I really have to continue? Well, this is a gaming site so I'm obligated, aren't I? Can I get a decent movie based on a video game please? Don't be confused with movies that include gaming as an activity (The Wizard). Were talking literal character translations. We now know the decision makers don't play games as well as being afraid of large books. It must be the only explanation as to how one can ruin a story as simple as the Lady Croft's. They picked the right person, but it all was buried underneath the idea of what could be merchandised. So the story suffered. Street Fighter (kill me, kill me now), Mortal Kombat (almost had it), Mario Bros (huh?), Wing Commander (Colin Ferrell, yeah right), Resident Evil (Isn't that the "Multi-pass" girl?) are movies that I can recall, were all smelly out-in-the sun-all-day-jar-of-mayo rotten. An affront to all gamers everywhere. Final Fantasy was ok, as long as it was just called 'The Spirit Within'. Drop the Final Fantasy from the title and you have an ok CG film. When are they going to get it right? Surely being movers and shakers they could at lest get a hold of a gaming system, and play a few games. I am keeping my hopes up for the Halo movie to be good. But just to be sure they should keep Ben Affleck and Will Smith off the set at all times.

Editor's note: For those of you wondering, Tron is the greatest gaming movie ever. Just edging out The Last Starfighter.

Lesson 4:
The Deja Vu

A question? How many times has the movie Freaky Friday been made? Did you say 2? That would be wrong. Realistically it's been done at least 4 times (2 made as FF, Like Father Like Son, Vice Versa). Over and over movies are copying themselves. Some are copies frame by frame (Psycho). Others have that little updated twist that Hollywood thinks everyone likes (Oceans 11). Many more are hybrids of original movies made in the past (Death takes a Holiday into Meet Joe Black) If I ever see another version of A Christmas Carol I'm going to cry. Some movies should not be redone. The original was fine the way it was. Don't bring up Willy Wonka either. I can't explain that one. (I know I'll like the first one even after watching the new Prince Valiant Oscar Wilde I mean Johnny Depp version, even though the new one is allegedly based more on the book.) This is the most slovenly way of movie-making and should be stopped. Some have left in their wake a cheated feeling after viewing (Godzilla) while others have not yet come to pass (Pink Panther The Longest Yard, King Kong, War of the Worlds, The Producers). The recipe is the same. Take a good successful movie, add one part ignorance, two parts dollar signs, a pinch of story, stir it all up and bake until unrecognizable. There should be a rule written somewhere. If the original was good, a remake is not allowed. Think of it this way, what if George Lucas remade Star Wars every 10 years? Wait.........bad example.

Lesson 5:
The Flying Lotus Theory

When the well has run dry, don't look for another well, just steal the water from your neighbor when his back is turned. Diabolique, Blame It On Rio, 12 Monkeys, Point of No Return, The Ring, The Grudge have all been taken from movies made in other countries. In most cases the original is always better. Are we seeing a trend not meant to be seen? What's that boardroom meeting like?

Boss: "We need something fresh, original. Something the public isn't tired of."
Lackey: "Sir we've got nothing, nothing at all."
Boss: "Well' you'd better think of something."
Lackey 2: "We could just steal movies from other countries"
Boss: "It's so lazy and thoughtless, it just may work."

I have this picture in my head (a movie if you will) showing a Hollywood movie gopher tunneling into other countries in the dead of night and stealing from the centralized foreign movie vault, where all are kept. It just seems like a sleazy way to make a movie. Even one of the worst movies of all time (Three Men And A Baby) was taken from a 1985 french movie. Unbelievable. Then the machine finds a way to exploit the exploited. Create a sequel to a remake of a foreign movie. Now that's just wrong. At least there's a theater here where I live that still shows the original movie. So I can sometimes see the foreign version before the machine bombards me with their version. This is one of the harder lessons to learn for the sole reason that it's much more difficult to spot the Flying Lotus, thanks to the cunning and guile the Movie Industry shows when promoting a new film. Then as it starts making money, the movie becomes a hidden treasure in the world of cinema. My advice, lay low, look for and give a wide berth to the 'inspired by' moniker and always look to the east for this is the path to truth.

So that's it. As I started to write this it became apparent the subject matter was too large to be put down in one blog. Too many references, categories, etc. Also some lessons here can be reversed. Say for instance a TV show was made from a movie and turned out better. One thing is certain. The remake trend is now a ravenous animal. It needs to be killed, or at the very least controlled. So grab your gun and buckshot, and we'll put Old Yeller down one last time.

It's almost here

Gang of Four live next week and Bauhaus the week after. I have been waiting forever to see Gang of Four. Bauhaus? Well, you can't beat that, now can you?
Pinch me, I must be dreaming. Better yet, don't wake me until next month.

Maybe tonight

I haven't slept in two days. Some of you know why. I won't go into detail, it's not important. I may stay home from work if I don't get sleep tonight, I am a freakin' zombie.

More blog moving is coming, I am almost moved out completely.

Originally posted 4/6/05

My issues with the PSP.

Part One

Part Two

Originally Posted 11/18/2004

Living in Sacramento has some advantages. It's centrally located. To the west you have the Bay Area (San Francisco, Carmel, Monterey). To the East you have the mountains (Lake Tahoe). North heads towards Oregon and Washington. Ok, south there's not much, unless you drive down about 7 hours to Los Angeles. The best thing about living in Sacto (as some of the locals call it) is it's Downtown. Most downtown areas in cities (although calling Sacramento a full-on city is a bit of a stretch) are nothing but a large business district.

Sacto's downtown has it's business structures as well, but the real beauty is most of downtown is full of old brownstones and old victorian homes. Now being a former grid dweller myself (the grid is the section that most use as a guideline for where downtown begins and ends. Ex: from 16th st to Alhambra is within the grid.) Most homes and apartments downtown are graced with the beauty that is hardwood floors. As some from the city by the bay can attest to, hardwood floors are magical. They can breathe new life into an otherwise ordinary humdrum house. When the light shines onto the floor in the morning, I become a little envious of my two cats curled up basking in that light as the floors warm beneath them. Living downtown was great, but I wanted to buy my own house because I was tired of throwing money away. Now, to buy a house downtown you need one of these two things:

1. A lot of money
2. A family member who will give you their house when they die.

Of course I had neither so I had to look elsewhere. Fast forward a few years and I have my nice starter kit home. Not too big or too small. It was our Goldilocks house. With one problem. It had carpet everywhere. Nasty beige 1970 'What's your sign?' carpet. Needless to say this had to go immediately. Hardwood floors was the answer. But I did not have the funds to take on such a project. Enter Matt Cable. Matt is a friend of mine from Arizona. We got to talking about what I want to do with the house. You know, repairs, upgrades, etc. The subject came to floors. (Originally my wife and I had set aside some greenbacks to either do something inside or re-do the backyard. The backyard is bad. It's our dirty little secret. I suggested hardwood floors.) Matt said he had put in floors for a few of his friends and that he could do it within two days, three at the latest. So, I said "I'll pay for your flight out here if you do my floors." He agreed with the stipulation that his alcoholic intake while "visiting" was to be paid by me. I said I would. I mean how much could he drink? A lot it turns out, but that's an entirely different post. So the week came and he arrived ready to work. I had to work the entire week, so I could only help after returning home from my desk jockey gig. We decided to go with Pergo since that is much easier to maintain (and less expensive) than real hardwood.

Now imagine your entire video game nerve center in total disarray during the time of year when it seems there's a new game being released every other day. I was like a junkie without a fix. Stuck in the middle of San Fiero with no gun, car, or homies to come to my call. No ball to roll. No chickens to toss, and the Chief right around the corner so you can see my dilemma.

I went the old school route instead. I reconnected (pun intended) with my glory days of gaming. It was quite a trip. I had almost forgotten how great these games were and still are. Anyway, I had made a bet with Matt regarding the timetable he had in his head for a finished project. As I stated before he said it would take him two days to finish, not counting baseboards. The gaunlet was thrown. We settled on a respectable $20. I was sweating a little by the end of the first day. He had one room totally done and only one room and a hallway left to go. Day two arrives and Matt runs into a few snags, but overcomes them with very little issues until......
With one piece left in the box and one piece left to place, it has become an issue of pride. The piece has to have two notches cut out to fit with the doorjamb. Nothing can be left to chance. Measure after measure Matt makes extra sure he has it correct before he makes his cut. As the table saw wails from the garage, I start to reassemble the living room. I did mention the San Andreas crack didn't I? Ok, as I'm running speaker wires a sound floats from the hallway into the living room like a lost balloon. "Oh....Fuck". Walking to the hallway; San Fiero forgotten for the moment, I'm thinking, 'Crap. Did he just slice his finger off?' or something much more messy. Matt looks up and says, "Well, I guess I owe you twenty bucks." I look at the piece he's holding and start to chuckle. He cut the notches on the wrong side. He felt so bad I didn't have the heart to take his money. Of course I'm not above laughing at him for about an hour afterwards. Well it all worked out and I love my house now. No more nasty carpet plus I get the bonus of watching my two cats slide from one end of the room to the other.