http://blogcritics.org/ A sinister cabal of superior bloggers on music, books, film, popular culture, politics, and technology - updated continuously. en Copyright 2005-2007 by the authors Fri, 7 Mar 2003 15:46:25 EST http://backend.userland.com/rss Blogcritics.org custom software http://blogcritics.org/ Phillip WinnSunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding. Administration0@blogcritics.org Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2003/03/07/154625.php Jennifer WuToad the Wet Sprocket is back…for a little while at least. Monday night, back together for their P.S. Reunion Tour, Toad the Wet Sprocket fulfilled the fantasies of their NYC fans by returning to Irving Plaza for a second sold out show in a row. First opening act Wheat left the usually open-minded, music-loving Toad audience unimpressed with a bland, uninspired performance. A shame, because singer Scott Levesque has a great voice that is unique and subtle and sincere in its plaintiveness. Unfortunately, it was lost and muddled in songs, soft and mellow on the album, that ended up just plain slow and mild live. The one song that began to catch the crowd’s attention, "World United" sung by guitarist Ricky Brennan, stopped short before it became truly interesting, a typical trait of Wheat’s best songs. It seems Wheat may not be ready yet for mass consumption. Conversely, Alice Peacock certainly strutted her stuff onstage with a full band, giving her songs a depth and liveliness that seems to be just what her album is missing. A departure from her light, poppy sounding ballads, live Alice Peacock with sweet, sex-laced vocals, rocked out soulfully. Accompanied by a highly skilled John Lennon look-alike guitarist, Alice Peacock (is that her real name??) and band turned out songs like “Bliss” and “Alabama Boy” that would make Vonda Shephard’s stiff, poker-faced smile twitch in jealousy. And it didn’t hurt that the top of her red lacy panties played hide and seek with her low-rider, form-fitting pants throughout the thirty-minute set. Nice touch. The real attraction of the night didn’t take the stage until 11 PM, a full three hours after the doors opened, but there were no complaints as Toad launched into their urgent and self-loathing anthem “Whatever I Fear” to the great approval of a highly charged and unmistakably wide-awake crowd. But then again these are patient people, having waited five years to see their beloved band again.Nearing midnight on a Monday, Toad’s main fan base, formerly earnest and mellow ‘90s college students, now all grown up earnest and mellow yuppies (many likely needing to be places by eight AM the following morning), couldn’t seem to get enough of the band. Even lead singer Glen Phillips seemed pleasantly surprised at the audience’s enthusiasm, remarking something to the effect of “not expecting the crowd at an add-on show to be quite like this” to hearty cheers and whistles and the occasional female shrieking a request for him to “take it off.”In great spirits, the band offered a great set to satisfy both casual fan and Toad devotees alike from their tambourine banging staple “Nightingale,” rarities “Rings” and “Stupid,” to crowd-pleasing minor hits “Something’s Always Wrong” and “Fall Down”, not to mention those two other songs everyone knows. Given the energy, the tightness, the great harmonies, for those that didn’t know any better, you’d never know they’d ever taken a five-year hiatus. With his humbly honest and wistful vocals, Phillips, as if he hadn’t already, thoroughly charmed the audience with an acoustic rendition of Randy Newman’s “Political Science” and gave the fans a taste of what he’d been up to since his split from the band. His solo stuff is good: solid, passionate, and intellectual. However, followed by an average offering from Randy Guss and Todd Nichols’ band, Lapdog, the return to Toad’s beautifully idyllic “Windmills” only proved that simply, because they wholly complement each other, there is an undeniable chemistry when these guys get together. Individually, neither Phillips nor Lapdog has yet achieved quite the acclaim or popularity that they did together as a band.Over the years, in their own quest for being and meaning, in both fun and seriousness, Toad has managed to produce works of great honesty, beauty, and of meaning. By tone, harmony, words, and voice, the message they convey, sometimes clear, sometimes subtle, is always the same: in the darkest of times, there is always hope, something that Toad fans have a great abundance of.By the end of the show, fans exited satisfied even if left yearning for more and with the hope that the reunion is not merely a temporary one. The band’s decision to end with the more obscure “All Things in Time” is perhaps their answer to the oft-asked question, one that was certainly on everyone’s mind that night, “Will you guys get back together for real already?”Unsure of their own future and with separate projects in the works, it seems the answer for now is all things in time. And Toad the Wet Sprocket is undoubtedly well worth the wait. Music3663@blogcritics.org Fri, 7 Mar 2003 15:46:25 EST http://blogcritics.org/archives/2002/10/21/143754.php Jennifer WuSo I went home to the burbs for the weekend and right as I walked through the door after seeing Michael Moore's latest documentary, Bowling for Columbine, the first thing my mother said to me was, "Did you hear there was another sniper shooting in Virginia?" Luckily, we live in New York, over 300 miles away from all the sniper attacks. However, my parents are not immune to the "culture of fear" Michael Moore ascribes to the apparently American tradition of nonstop media coverage of the mostly violent crimes - particularly gun deaths. He points out that while the murder rate has decreased 20% over the past couple of years, news coverage of violent crimes has risen 600%. My mother watches the local news religiously. My father reads the newspapers daily. "Be careful when you leave your apartment," my father cautions me, "the sniper might decide to come up to the city.""Don't worry, Dad," I tell him, "if he comes up to Washington Heights, he will be outgunned." It's true. I've lived here for three years now. Whenever I turn on the local news, the shootings invariably take place within 5 blocks of my apartment. I've witnessed a murder suicide from my window (I heard the shots, saw the bodies. My neighbors found their car bullet ridden the next morning and within the month, moved out to a safer - or is it - Hoboken). Clearly, here in the Heights, the sniper would not have a chance. In fact, I dare the sniper to come up to Washington Heights. Quit pussy footing it around DC and come up here and play, asshole. Nevertheless, I'm sure if we had a sniper up here we'd all be cowering and looking over our shoulders even more than we're used to. It seems walking around DC and areas like my neighborhood these days is like playing the death lottery: unlikely to pick the winning numbers, yes, but still a possibility. So it's shocking yet easy for me to believe when Michael Moore states that while Australia and England each had about 65 shooting deaths in a one-year period and Canada around 300, the United States had over 11,000 in one year alone.Bowling for Columbine is Moore's quest for an explanation behind these disturbing figures. He scours the nation to bring us a humorous and grimly horrific look at America's culture of firearms abuse from a bank that gives away guns when you open an account with them to the terrible massacre at Columbine to even Michigan, his home state. Here, a startling set of coincidences arises. Oklahoma City bomber Terry Nichols and his brother (who we learn sleeps with a loaded gun under his pillow) have connections to the Michigan militia. NRA President Charlton "From My Cold Dead Hands" Heston grew up in Michigan as did Columbine killer Harris. Michigan has the record for the youngest fatal shooting when a six year old shot and killed a classmate. Heston insensitively attended and spoke at an NRA meeting one week after this shooting, in Michigan. And Michigan is only a microcosm. However, across the border, in Canada, where gun laws are similar to ours and guns are just as easily accessible, why is it that the number of gun deaths is only a tenth that of the United States'? Germany and Great Britain have just a violent history as ours and yet only a fraction of the gun violence. What makes us different? Why is a sniper targeting seemingly random people in DC? Why am I scared to walk around my neighborhood at night? Bowling for Columbine's worth lies in the questions Moore poses as the film leaves us with no clear answers, just a general feeling of anger and helplessness, an overwhelming sense that something is wrong in America, as well as an uneasy longing to move to Canada.So I'm thinking that moving north of the border to Canada is not such a bad idea. I've got my winter coats (all fifteen or so), my love of Canadian comedians and Canadian bacon (both the movie and the food, although I've been told repeatedly that they don't have Canadian bacon up there. Wtf). I can get excited for Kraft dinners, timbits, and alcool, and I'm all for Boxing Day. I still don't understand Canadian Thanksgiving (what is that all aboot?) but I'll celebrate it. So fuck this shit, when our government decides to attack Saddam, I'll be cheering on the Maple Leafs and skating home to think polite thoughts about the Queen Mum. Canada is utopia. Video1429@blogcritics.org Mon, 21 Oct 2002 14:37:54 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2002/10/14/225200.php Jennifer WuMaybe I'm getting old (ahem - 26), but big venue concerts just aren't doing it for me anymore. Sitting in section 306 at Madison Square Garden and trying to rock out to Incubus or The Rolling Stones while straining to see their pea-sized selves, and well, aside from the sensationally loud yet muffled-sounding speaker system that pulsates each thumping beat through my very being, I'm just not feeling it. Not to forget the ever-present moshing, a crowd shoving and pushing sport - does this really have to be done in front of a live band? Why don't these people form moshing clubs, pump up the jam in the privacy of their own homes, and shove, punch, jostle, and push each other to their hearts content there? And the prices for these concerts? Don't get me started. Let's face it, for those who just want to feel the beat and rock and roll, the radio ain't cutting it either these days. So where are you going to get your fix? The solution - go out and support your local bands. The best way to experience great music is to haul your ass down to your local dive bar or small club. They're intimate, just a little bit smoky, and have just enough room to dance if you want to; or, if you prefer, there are usually seats enough so that you may sit back and simply enjoy the music. The best band to experience is one of the newest and lesser-known arrivals on the New York City scene: Janie Superstar. In a sea of jaded rockers, punked-out punksters, and oh so blase psychedelic electro no wave artists, Janie Superstar emerges as a refreshing, down-to-earth folk/pop/rock (label as you will) band whose powerful and melodic songs recall southern rockers coming out of music meccas Chapel Hill and Greensboro, NC. Headed by Chris Courtney, lead vocals and guitar, and Sal Prizio, guitar and vocals, the guys play a winning mixed set of carefree danceable-to tunes and self-reflective ballads that sound just as good acoustic as they do plugged in. Full of youthful energy and still poignant at times, it's the kind of music you can enjoy with or without the accompaniment of the hazy happiness that only a good ole beer buzz can bring. Spend an intimate night with Janie Superstar, who oft frequent Lion's Den and CBGB Lounge in the Village in New York City and various locations in CT, while you can before you find yourself paying forty bucks, not including Ticketmaster surcharges, to strain to watch them from the third tier of a sold out 20,000-seat stadium. They're already moving on up with a gig at The Elbow Room coming up this Wednesday, October 16. You can find more information about the band, as well as song clips and show dates, at www.janiesuperstar.com. A night out with Janie Superstar is best summed up when lead singer Courtney sings:"Got to the pub around a quarter to nine, sippin' on a beer and feelin' mighty fine. smoky room, music's loud, watchin' all my worries get lost in the crowd. I feel free all around me, I see me all around me singin' (la la la's)"And that is what it's all about. Music1302@blogcritics.org Mon, 14 Oct 2002 22:52:00 EDT