To be fair, I knew fuck-all about the Deftones before I hear their latest album, Diamond Eyes. I thought, based on the name, that they were some sort of jazzy, neo-swing band of some sort. It turns out they are actually a rock band.
Browsing: Critics Den
Living in Iowa, there are few forms of entertainment that are sufficient for an ex-art school student. Food is a major activity in the area as we have some of the best beef and pork in the world. Unfortunately, this also leads to unwanted and unsightly weight-gain. Movies are one of my passions, but I have been cursed with odd taste. I can’t just wander into a Best Buy and expect to find any DVD that would blow my skirt up. No – I need to venture into murkier waters such as Barnes & Noble, or if that fails, Amazon.com to locate the few shining examples that I deem “movies that don’t suck”.
When it comes to chain restaurants, the public gets what the public wants. Except when the chain is McDonald’s, and what the public wants is the McRib. Then it seems warranted to only give the public what it wants for a few weeks every 10 years.
Which is fine by me. I hope these putrid piles of shite get flagged by the FDA and tossed into the center of the sun, along with the McDonald’s buildings themselves. But first, I believe a review is in order, to be fair to a supposed food item that enjoyed without irony. And so I coated my stomach lining, had all my shots, and tried McDonald’s McRib.
The New York City Horror Film Festival is another breed of festival, because instead of being stuck in a room of producers and maybe a stunt-man from the movie you’ve watched, you are in a room of artists, with maybe one suit flying around to make sure people are using coasters for their drinks. I went one night, for the screening of the original A Nightmare on Elm Street. Here is the play by play of that night.
I have a Jimi Hendrix CD, but Wesley Snipes informed me years ago that I can’t hear Jimi. I have a couple BB King CDs, but the closest I’ve been to the blues is watching Jake and Elwood tear through Chicago in a used cop car. (Actually, that’s not true. The closest I’ve been to the blues is watching Blues Brothers 2000—THAT hunk of dog crap will give you the blues.) So anyway, I have no idea what to do with Neon Dynamite’s 5-track, self-titled release.
Finally, a female musician we can be proud of.
Katy Perry, America’s new model for demure self-respect, has released her sophomore effort, “Teenage Dream.” In it, we find the sounds and messages that we, as a nation, have been longing for since the turn of the century.
I’m told that Stars is a band from Montreal, and that “The Five Ghosts” is their fifth album or whatever. But, seriously… Degrassi? REALLY? This is the source of the music I’m reviewing? Did the latest volume of “Now That’s What I Call Disney!” not come out yet?
All mocking aside (Degrassi? DEGRASSI?), it’s an interesting album. Imagine if Joshua Radin and Ingrid Michaelson decided to make an album together, but decided that today’s music didn’t work for them. Pretend that they built a time machine—but one that could travel into the sitcom world—and went back to the Friends episode where Ross played his weird-ass electronic keyboard stuff. (Yes, I believe that was the name of the episode: “The One Where Ross Played His Weird-Ass Electronic Keyboard Stuff.” Seriously. DEGRASSI.)
The Northstar Session is a quartet hailing from California. The four-piece features Matthew Szlachetka on guitar and vocals, Kane McGee on drums and vocals, Shiben Bhattacharya on bass, and Dave Basaraba (a name that makes me want to do the robot, much to my wife’s dismay) on heading up the organ and saxophone, or “saxa-ma-phone” as I always hear it in my head in Homer Jay’s voice. This quartet can be found touring the West coast extensively, and are known to put their all into all of their shows.
With a star-studded cast backing up the sequel to a movie that reclaimed comic-book movies, you’d think it would be hard for Iron Man 2 to fail.
Unfortunately, no-one figured that lazy storylines would play into the equation.
In 2003, the Dixie Chicks pissed off NASCAR country.
You probably remember the controversy; they made a comment to a London concert audience that they thought then-president Dubya was a chode (Ed. note: not a direct quote). A newspaper printed the quote, one of the 18 country music fans who are literate (Ed. note: not a factual statistic) got ahold of the quote… and the rest is history.