Crappy Anniversary

We just marked the one-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina devastating New Orleans and the Mississippi coast, and the networks have taken the opportunity to:

a) point out that much still needs to be done
b) renew the call for increased preparedness
c) urge government to address the conditions that allowed so many to be left behind
d) bring on Laura Bush and allow her to offer a rosy view of the situation

You guessed it. Once again, this time on Good Morning America, the Bush family proves just how tone deaf it is. If you needed a reminder, you could check out first-mother Barbara Bush's public-radio interview from the Houston Astrodome soon after Katrina hit.

Despite what the first family thinks, a variety of polls show that most Americans (especially NON-REPUBLICANS) believe that government needs to do a lot more for Katrina victims, and that the city of New Orleans is a long way from OK.

Spike Lee's HBO documentary When the Levees Broke provides an eye-opening account of New Orleans pre- and post-Katrina, highlighting the plight of the poor and disenfranchised, mostly African-American population. Though $100 billion has been allocated by the federal government to help rebuild the Gulf Coast, most of the poorer neighborhoods have seen little or no improvement. Crime is on the rise again, houses remain washed out, residents are slow to return, or are not willing to return at all to a city that has shown little concern for their well-being.

New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are an extremely ugly sore on the face of our democracy -- providing an unwelcome reminder that just because it looks pretty doesn't mean that it has any substance.

To my mind, we can't be remotely proud of our country until the situation in the Gulf Coast is improved. Not just rebuilding homes, repairing businesses and restoring tourism; but also improving the condition of schools, the delivery of social services and the other conditions that led to New Orleans' high crime rate, vast economic disparity and disconnect with the poor.

The pictures that shocked us in August and September of last year have not really changed much since then, other than the fact that you have to go on YouTube or watch a four-hour HBO documentary in order to see them now, rather than just flipping on the network news. The government and the people who buy advertising on the networks clearly would rather we forgot about this problem and got back to cheerily spending our money on luxury goods. And hey, I like luxury as much as the next guy, but maybe we can send a donation to organizations like this one before going out and booking that expensive hotel room or buying a new pair of shoes. We spend all day hearing about victims of this or that unpredictable or uncontrollable crime or disaster. Here are some people we can help.

What Made Milwaukee Famous

Well, the results are in, and it appears, surprisingly enough, that Milwaukee is the drunkest city in America.

Despite my best efforts, San Francisco barely squeaked into the top twenty. More shocking still is that even with the dozens of cases of Smirnoff Ice consumed each month by my Russian pal Boris, New York only managed number 32.

Boris, a word of advice: As Dorothy Parker once told her husband, "You don't want to become the town drunk, Eddie. Not in Manhattan."

Pitchfork-man vs. Birdmonster

Pitchfork handed down its review of Birdmonster's new album last Friday with all the respect and deference that Godzilla showed Tokyo back in 1954. Contributor William Bowers heaved vicious indie-rock slurs like 'a jangly Everclear' and 'reeks of Candlebox's heroic chest hair' in an unrelentingly brutal smackdown of an album review.

Anyhow, I wanted to feel righteous anger and resentment toward Pitchfork, akin to what I felt when they slammed Two Gallants' latest, but after visiting some of the newer material on Birdmonster's site, I could muster no outrage.

Though I grew to love their debut EP, the lackluster live shows and disappointing full-length material make the 5.6 that much easier to swallow.

The Falcon, Act II

Not many people's lives are considered interesting enough to be the subject of a feature film. But even more exclusive are the ranks of those who warrant a sequel by their early fifties.

Those who have seen the 1985 Timothy Hutton/Sean Penn film The Falcon and the Snowman are most likely aware that the film was based on the experiences of Christopher Boyce and Andrew Daulton Lee. Boyce, when 21 years old, had access to many highly classified U.S. government secrets, including troubling information on union infiltration and meddling in electoral politics in Australia. Boyce, already disillusioned with his government, decided that it was time for payback. Employing his friend Andrew Daulton Lee as an intermediary, he began selling secrets (mostly outdated and useless) to the Russians via their embassy in Mexico City. The duo was caught when Lee was wrongfully accused of killing a police officer in Mexico, while in possession of top-secret microfilm. Both men were sentenced to lengthy prison terms in 1977. The movie ends there.

But Boyce managed to break out of Lompoc Federal Prison in California. After watching Escape from Alcatraz with fellow inmates, he mimicked Clint Eastwood's use of a papier-mache dummy to aid in his escape. Boyce then eluded authorities for 19 months, robbing banks to keep money in his pocket. After a couple of close calls, he was turned in by accomplices and returned to prison, where he remained until his release on parole in 2003, following extended efforts by his longtime friend and now wife, Cait.

The Boyces would like to see another movie made about Boyce's life after his 1997 arrest and the efforts to secure his parole. Much of the story can be found in an interview Boyce gave to an Australian version of 60 Minutes as well as message-board posts from Cait Boyce on movie site imdb.com.

For my part, I hope that Boyce's second story is eventually told.

Annuals Got the Buzz

The music sites and blogs have been bickering over who heard this band first for the last several weeks, and with good reason. What few songs are available on their myspace page (their first album, Be He Me, is due out October 17th on Ace Fu Records) sound pretty damn good. They've drawn comparisons to Arcade Fire, The Hold Steady, Animal Collective and Broken Social Scene -- that is, right before everyone else chimed in that they don't sound anything like any of those bands.

Those ungrateful, lucky-ass New Yorkers will get to see them at Sin-e and Northsix in mid-September and with Art Brut at Irving Plaza in mid-October. Us West Coasters will have to wait indefinitely for a national tour, as usual.

Dude looks just like Beirut's Zach Condon in that picture. Coincidence?

The Sour Apple

I love New York, and I hope to live there for a year or so before too long, but the more music blogs I read these days, the more it becomes obvious that the music scene in the Big Apple borders perilously on lame.

A quick read of Brooklyn Vegan and its comments section reveals that New Yorkers hated the Sufjan Stevens/David Byrne show at the Beacon Theatre. The Shins sucked at McCarren Park Pool. Beirut is overrated. Deerhoof is annoying. And these are people that supposedly like music enough to spend time reading about it on a blog.

It's a classic case of taking a good situation for granted. New York arguably sees more good music pass through than any other city in the world. Why can't they enjoy it?

One theory is that it is crucial in the New York music scene to be among the first people to like a band, and, soon later, among the first people to suddenly discover that the band has:

a) Been overhyped by the blogs
b) Gotten too tight with David Byrne
c) Watered down their sound in the studio, or
d) Become too plump and soft with success

Another theory is that they take the Fred Ebb lyric 'If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere" a little too seriously.

If there's ice in the arena...

Every once in a while, I reap some measure of benefit from being too lazy to change my homepage from the HP-defaulted AOL.com. Today is one of those days, as the 'good people' at AOL directed me to this video of a batshit-crazy citizen of Charlotte, N.C., who vents his frustrations to the City Council on subjects like putting ice in the arena, placing a helicopter pilot on top of the Most-Wanted List, and bringing a 'chameleon, lemonheaded, coward, terrorist pussy' named George Shin to justice.

For some reason, this guy reminds me of Sean Penn's character, Daulton Lee (pictured above), in The Falcon and the Snowman. Maybe it's the turtleneck and jacket combo. Or the coke-fueled lunacy.

Canadian Rock School

OK, so I have no pictures of the Wolf Parade show at The Fillmore last night. That's because, other than the one on my cell phone, I have no camera. You see, when I was a lad, I had more than a little trouble grasping the art of documentary photography, and instead chose to focus on a series of partial thumb portraits. Strange those never caught on in the galleries.

Anyhow, pictures or not, I was quite impressed with Wolf Parade's performance last night. It seems like in today's indie-rock landscape, several Canadian bands have figured out what most American and British acts haven't -- how to rock hard in a live setting. Here are a few of the things I've noticed:

-Less preening and posturing: You don't see Dan Boeckner, Win Butler or Dan Bejar emulating Mick Jagger up on stage. It's about the music -- and they seem to like playing it as much as you like hearing it.

-Show more gusto in thrashing equipment: Arcade Fire's Will Butler beats on an old motorcycle helmet...while it's on Richard Reed Parry's head. Wolf Parade's Dante De Caro beat on some raggedy-looking chimes at last night's show until one came unmoored and whizzed across the stage, right by Hadji Bakara's head.

-Kick up the tempo in live setting: It struck me that most of Wolf Parade's up-tempo songs were jacked up a notch last night, making the show that much more dynamic.

-Have more than one songwriter and singer in the band: Arcade Fire have Win and Regine; The New Pornographers have Carl Newman, Neko Case and Bejar; Wolf Parade features both Spencer Krug and Boeckner on lead vocals.

-Switch it up: Arcade Fire is a veritable musical chairs of multi-instrumentalism -- with the band switching instruments more often than your dentist does during a deep cleaning. While Wolf Parade didn't get me as dizzy as that other Montreal act, I admit I was constantly counting tuning knobs.

Irony of the Week

From the 'Why's The Man Always Trying to Keep Us Down?' department:

Last night, police shut down -- of all things! -- a benefit for the Prison Literature Project that was being held at LoBot Gallery in West Oakland. A rather large gaggle of philanthropic hipsters were said to have been blocking the bustling thoroughfare that connects some rundown old warehouses to some stolen-car chopshops down by the 880. Oh, and I guess there was some very poorly hidden underage drinking going on out on the sidewalk and the adjoining park too.

Patrons were sent packing just minutes before headlining band Japanther (pictured above) took the stage, after some lengthy negotiations between the police and those running the benefit. It's not bad enough that the 5-0s gotta send all these dudes to the hooskow for all their days, now they can't even let us help get some F. Scott Fitzgerald up in that bitch.

Next Stop Horrorland

I'm not a big horror film fan. I'll watch them when I go to my buddy Rick's house, who's completely obsessed. Or perhaps possessed. I don't know for sure, because he nevers calls me anymore.

In any case, I may not be able to wax philosophical on the divergent visual aesthetics of Tobe Hooper and George Romero, but I certainly can enjoy the occasional well-written, well-directed gorefest.

Some directors' names I can immediately identify with the horror genre -- Carpenter, Barker, Romero, Argento, Craven, Raimi. Other directors seem to wander into the genre after establishing themselves elsewhere. That seems to be the case these days with one of my favorite directors -- and fellow product of the Connecticut shoreline -- Brad Anderson (pictured above).

If you haven't seen Anderson's early films like Happy Accidents or Next Stop Wonderland, his decision to write and direct an installment of the Showtime series Masters of Horror might make perfect sense, following as it does his dark psychological thriller, The Machinist. But taken with his early bent toward quirky romantic comedies, it seems a bit of a leap. Then again, given the sci-fi-tinged storyline of Happy Accidents and the morose feel of Next Stop Wonderland, maybe it's not so unnatural.

Now pay attention, Rick. Masters of Horror, about to begin its second season, gathers of group of prominent directors -- mostly from the realm of horror filmmaking -- to tell stories that wouldn't pass muster in the current PG-13 world of multiplex slasher flicks. The first season featured films by series creator Mick Garris, Dario Argento, Tobe Hooper (Texas Chainsaw Massacre), Don Coscarelli (Phantasm, Bubba-Ho-Tep), John Carpenter and John Landis, among others. Season Two adds Tom Holland (Fright Night, Child's Play), Ernest Dickerson (Juice) and Anderson to the mix.

Anderson's contribution is titled 'Sounds Like' and was adapted from a short story by Mike O'Driscoll. The one-hour story follows Larry Pearce, a man whose increasingly acute hearing drives him to violent behavior. Pearce is played by The Wire's Season Two standout -- and Emmy snub -- Chris Bauer, aka local union boss Frank Sobotka.

Bauer's gritty yet nuanced acting along with Anderson's pensive and uncompromising writing and direction promise to make this installment of Masters of Horror one for the TiVo, or OnDemand if you send the checks to Comcast. And Rick, I'll see you on November 11th -- have some Pabst in the fridge.

Aziz May Be Bored, But We're Not

The philosopher Erasmus once said, "Everybody hates a prodigy, detests an old head on young shoulders." I find this to be true in most cases, but really, how can the envious, plodding half-talent be expected to maintain his contempt when the prodigy in question makes him laugh until Newman's Own Virgin Limeade shoots out both nostrils? Salieri never had to deal with that shit.

This brings us to Aziz Ansari, 23 years old, born in South Carolina and currently residing in The Big Apple, where he and other promising local comics (and frequent collaborators), including Eugene Mirman, Paul Scheer and Rob Huebel perform in troupes like The Upright Citizens Brigade and occasionally film segments for VH1's Best Week Ever -- that is when they're not hanging out among, and performing with, their various indie-rocker friends.

In the midst of all this, Aziz has assembled a respectable body of work that's well-documented on YouTube and his own site, azizisbored.com. New York magazine recently named him one of 'The 10 Funniest New Yorkers You've Never Heard Of', to boot.

His growing name recognition stems from the viral success of several video shorts shot with fellow comics lampooning the self-serious and almost-always ridiculous fringes of the entertainment industry. Recently, at the Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago, Aziz filmed a hilarious short with buzz band Tapes 'N Tapes about an overzealous music promoter. The video is packed with cameos by indie luminaries like Devendra Banhart, Ted Leo and Saturday Night Live's Fred Armisen.

This may be his best work yet, but a search on YouTube turns up some great stand-up on subjects like Kanye West's braggadocio, his obsession with M.I.A., and K-9 cops as well as videos about a shitty mixtape contest and a pair of snotty clerks at Other Music.

I have a new favorite comic.

Quote of the Day

George W. Bush, apparently oblivious to the irony in his response to a reporter's question about the Israel-Hezbollah conflict:


"The first reaction of course of Hezbollah and its supporters is to declare victory. I guess I would have done the same thing if I were them," Bush said. "Sometimes it takes people awhile to come to the sober realization of what forces create stability and what don't. Hezbollah is a force of instability."

Guess that would be Hezbollah's 'Mission Accomplished" moment.