Mississippi: Double the 's', double the 'p', and now with 4 times the 'i'!

You know Mississippi,

The best part about fulfilling this 50-state blog challenge is learning new things, random things, useless things about states you've never wanted to visit and likely never will. It's also nice to read some 'Hmmm... I should have known that' facts about other places in the country. For example, Mississippi comes from an Ojibwe word meaning 'Great River'. Well I'll be damned if that doesn't make all sorts of sense...

An example of something I likely never would have known about Mississippi, and subsequently probably would have been OK going my whole life never finding out is that Texas Rose Bascom, of Columbia, Mississippi, became the most famous female trick roper in the world, performing on stage and in Hollywood movies. She toured the world with Bob Hope, billed as the "Queen of the Trick Ropers," and was the first Mississippian to be inducted into the National Cowgirl Hall of Fame. How many Mississippians are NOW in the Cowgirl Hall of Fame you ask? Hell, I don't know, and I still don't care, so go find out yourself...

There's more to know about Mississippi, some of which may actually entertain and/or inspire. Let's share the wisdom of the Wiki shall we?

- The state flag of Mississippi displays a proud history of bassackward Southern culture. Contentious residents of the state are likely ashamed. Governor Haley Barbour apparently is not, since he's made no attempt to pull his state out of the mire of bald-faced racism.

- The state symbol of Mississippi is a magnolia flower. That's a much more plesant image, now isn't it? I'm sure it would look lovely on a flag...

- Apart from the biggun' it's named for, the state of Mississippi also features the Big Black River, the Pearl River, the Yazoo, the Pascagoula, and the Tombigbee. Throw a stick and you're likely to hit a river.

- Please watch where you're throwing that stick. Mississippians don't like being hit with sticks any more than residents of other states do. It's just an expression and I kind of expected you to be mature enough to know that. Honestly, what kind of person throws a stick? You could have put somebody's eye out you know?

- Mississippi's highest elevation, Woodall Mountain, peaks at a mere 806ft. above sea level. If Mississippi wanted to see West Virginia, it would have to stand on Tennessee's shoulders to get a glimpse over the top of Kentucky.

- That's ridiculous. Mississippi could NEVER stand on Tennessee's shoulders. It just doesn't have the balance... Besides, Tennessee has skinny little chicken legs, it could never support Mississippi's weight... Now if Alabama stepped in to make a Southern state cheerleader pyramid then there would be a chance, but last I heard Tennessee and Alabama weren't even speaking to each other... I KNOW!! I thought they were all BFF's and shit, but I guess Alabama was talking crap about Tennessee's boyfriend, and you know how THAT goes... and...

- Yes, I'm done. Moving along...

- Johnny Cash and June Carter (nee Cash) tell me that the state's capital, Jackson, is an excellent stop if one is interested in 'wrecking one's health'...

- I'm not sure if that implies getting drunk, or contracting a disease, but either way, Jackson knows how to party...

- Before you make your way to Jackson, I feel it's only good manners to inform you that the sale of sex toys is strictly prohibited in Mississippi, so you'd best stock up in Arkansas.

- Playwright Tennessee Williams was from Mississippi... Nope, that's not a typo...

- Short lived 1970's rock band, Mississippi was from Australia... Again, you're reading that correctly.

- There is no truth to the rumor that Mississippi broke up after taking a nasty fall in an attempt to spot West Virginia from atop Tennessee William's shoulders...

- Iron Chef Cat Cora is from Jackson, Mississippi and is known to break in to impromptu rants about her anger and frustration at frequently forgetting to put her favorite ice cream in the freezer when she arrives home from the market. She released the collected speeches as a spoken word album entitled Cat on a Hot Tin Roof ...

- ARCA Racer, Ricky Stenhouse, Jr., was born in Olive Branch, Mississippi. He began his driving career as an illegal street racer, and has recently published a manuscript about his first ever ride entitled, A Streetcar Named Desire...

- Before helping Americans clean up their homes through the invention of Pine-Sol, Jackson native Harry A. Cole ran a sprawling pet store that was regarded in the community as the single largest repository for reptiles in the entire southern region of the US. Unfortunately, with all those animals to care for, one evening Harry forgot to close all the cages after feeding his scaly friends. At some point in the evening, a pesky lesser antilean began gnawing on a gas line whilst two white cays began fighting over a whetstone used as a bubble diffuser in common fish tanks. The gas leak combined with the sparks from the stone as the reptilian rapscallions batted it across the tiled floor caused a fire ball to erupt and the pet store was burned to the ground. The animals escaped unharmed and the ancestors of those lizards can be found living wild throughout greater Mississippi to this day. A 2005 documentary chronicled the events on their 80th anniversary. The film was entitled The Night of the Iguana.

I cannot even begin to tell you how much joy I'm getting out of this, but I suppose it's time to leave the puns behind and move on to the music... You'll excuse me if I'm not as quick to keep things moving as in posts passed. It's been a few entries since I logged a state list, and I require a Period of Adjustment...

The selections:

Solo: Elvis Aron Presley

I've made my opinion about the proper hierarchy of Elvi (the appropriate plural of Elvis) known previously. That not withstanding, I simply cannot deny the king his court. Just as the King of Pop was allowed to rule over Indiana, the King of Rock & Roll shall take his rightful throne in Mississippi. Keep in mind though this renders His Majesty ineligible for Tennessee enshrinement, even if that is the locale of Graceland, and the throne on which the king departed this earthly plain...

Still too soon for 'Elvis died on the can' humor?

I fully admit that my less then reverent treatment of Elvis is born almost entirely from the fact that I was not able to witness first hand the revolutionary shift he spurned in popular music. I tend to feel that Elvis' contribution to the formation of Rock & Roll as we know it, while massively important, is still none the less overstated. Simply put Elvis was not the only one singing Rock & Roll songs in 1954. I will not argue the fact that he was more successful, more visible, and more controversial than any of his early contemporaries, but much of the originality and controversy is lost on me coming from a generation where musicians were expected to write and play their own tunes as well as sing them.

I will say this for His Rockliness, no one, and I mean NO ONE can play a boat hand / lifeguard / cliff diver the way Elvis did in Fun in Acapulco... Throughout his film career he played a 'Mike' three times, did three tours as a 'Johnny' and only once played a 'Deke'. As far fetched as the Elvis formula plays, (ie. Soldier who happens to sing and play guitar, waiter who happens to sing and play guitar, race car driver who happens to sing and play guitar, dock hand who happens to cliff dive AND sing & play guitar...) the films really aren't about what ELVIS is doing anyway, they're about what WE want to be doing... Seriously, who WOULDN'T want to race a car, sing a song, and get down with 1967 Nancy Sinatra?

I guess what I'm saying is while I respect Elvis' place in the Rock pantheon, and will even rightfully call him The King, it's his film work that entertains me far more than just the songs. Here's an excellent example of both working at once, Elvis from Viva Las Vegas.



Band: The heretofore imaginary but SO should have happened blues super group of Bo Diddley, John Lee Hooker, B. B. King, and Muddy Waters.

So far as I can tell, there's only one band actually FROM Mississippi, and that band is 3 Doors Down. Seriously, what kind of human being would I be if I honored the 'accomplishments' of 3 Doors Down and totally blew off the backbone of guitar driven modern blues? The fact that all four of these artists were born in the same state is testament to the power of the Mississippi Delta. There must be some sort of voodoo blues jive flowing in the rivers, because that just doesn't seem normal to me.

B. B. King gave us The Thrill Is Gone, collaborated with U2 on When Love Comes to Town, and was voted by Rolling Stone as the 3rd greatest guitarist on the list of the 100 greatest guitarists of all time.

Bo Diddley influenced artists Buddy Holly, Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton. He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and also received the Rhythm and Blues Foundation Pioneer Lifetime Achievement Award. He is also credited with creating the Bo Diddley sound, which has been used in songs such as:

Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away"
The Who's "Magic Bus"
U2's "Desire"
The Smiths "How Soon Is Now?"
George Michael's "Faith"
Tom Petty's "A Mind with a Heart of Its Own
The Pretenders "Cuban Slide"
Jefferson Airplane's "She Has Funny Cars"
Guns N' Roses "Mr Brownstone"
Green Day's "Castaway"
Pat Benatar's "Love Is a Battlefield"

John Lee Hooker influenced Bo Diddley, appeared and sang in the 1980 movie The Blues Brothers. He has collaborated with artists Carlos Santana, Bonnie Raitt and Van Morrison. Hooker has also been honored with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Two of his songs, "Boogie Chillen" and "Boom Boom" were named to the list of The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's 500 Songs that Shaped Rock and Roll. He was also inducted in 1980 into the Blues Hall of Fame. Finally, in 2000, Hooker was awarded the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.

Muddy Waters, also known as the Father of Chicago Blues, was a huge inspiration for the British beat, was ranked #17 in Rolling Stone magazine's list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time. In 1967, he joined forces with Bo Diddley, Little Walter and Howlin' Wolf to record the Super Blues and The Super Super Blues Band pair of albums of Chess blues standards. That's the closest this group of artists ever got to recording together. As such, here's 3 Doors Down's Kryptonite.



Honorable Mention: Sam Cooke

Sam Cooke is responsible for some of the most purely entertaining songs ever recorded. Cupid, Another Saturday Night, Twistin' the Night Away, You Send Me, A Change Is Gonna Come, Chain Gang, and Bring It on Home to Me. He had a total of twenty nine top 40 hits on the US chart despite having recorded for just eight short years. Had he lived on, I have no doubt Sam Cooke would have easily joined the elite company of Elvis Presley, The Beatles, Michael Jackson, and Madonna as one of the most successful pop/rock acts in history.

Unfortunately, this was not to pass. At the tragically young age of thirty three, Sam Cooke was shot dead by the manager of Los Angeles' Hacienda Hotel. The official verdict in the case was that Cooke was shot in self defense after entering the manager's office wearing nothing but an overcoat and one shot, demanding information about the whereabouts of the woman who joined him at the hotel that evening. The manager, Bertha Franklin, claims the the two struggled and then both reached for a gun she had in the office for protection. Franklin beat Cooke to the gun and shot him.

The woman who had accompanied Cooke to the room was identified and testified on Franklin's behalf claiming that Cooke had tried to rape her. This story was disputed by the evidence, including missing money from Cooke's person, and was additionally called in to question later when the same woman was arrested on charges of prostitution.

In addition to inconsistancies in the story of Cooke's companion, Elisa Boyer, there was also inconsistancies between the story of the hotel manager and what singer Etta James witnessed upon viewing the body in the funeral home. According to James, the injuries sustained by Cooke were far beyond what would be expected from a simple struggle, followed by a gunshot wound. James claimed that Cooke was beaten so severely that his head was nearly separated from his shoulders, his hands were broken and crushed, and his nose was mangled. Despite these inconsistancies, the jury felt Bertha Franklin had acted within her rights to protect herself based on the fact that the hotel's owner testified to having heard the struggle over the phone, and the fact that Cooke's post mortem blood test showed he was intoxicated at the time of his death. To this day, surviving members of the Cooke family believe that Sam Cooke was intentionally murdered, though no evidence of a conspiracy has ever been brought to light.

Regardless of the tragic circumstances of his death, Sam Cooke is an American legend, and has been enshrined, along with all of Mississippi's other listed artists, into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Here's a live performance of Twistin' the Night Away.



The next state will be Missouri. I'm liking the varied posting of the last few days though, so that likely will not be the next post...

Instant Impressions: Pete Walker's Frightmare!

So I haven't posted a movie review in a while, and of those I have posted, they have either been films I've seen many times, or films I'd watched a few days prior, and really had time to digest. As a result, I decided I'd spend my Saturday morning after dropping CSD Julie off at the airport for a whirlwind tour of lovely... Detroit... cracking open a DVD I purchased 6 months ago but had yet to unwrap, Frightmare, from the Pete Walker collection.

Watch out! Ben Franklin's got a drill!

It goes without saying that this post is one big friggen' spoiler, so if you too have purchased the Pete Walker collection and allowed your copy of Frightmare to go unwatched I highly recommend you rectify that situation before continuing. There are no 'you'll have to see for yourself' moments here. All of Walker's twists and turns will be revealed. Don't say I didn't warn you!!

I'd planned on giving this one the old blog treatment, but I figured instead of the typical watch the film, gather my thoughts, and allow them to percolate with the sweet nectar of time, I would instead go ahead and bust this one out mid-watch, just so my impressions are as raw and fresh in my mind as possible. I do not suggest you try this yourselves. Raw Pete Walker is an excellent carrier of salmonella...

On that note, on with the show!

Frightmare
A Pete Walker film
1974
Starring Rupert Davies and Sheila Keith

Right from the get-go I can tell this one is going to be menacing with a capital enacing... First off, it's called Frightmare... Second off, the minute of looped soundtrack layed over the DVD menu is eerie as all get out. It kind of reminds me of Gargamel's theme from The Smurfs... If the haze of youth has blocked your memory, that dude was a serious tool-box, and we never really truly found out what he wanted with the smurfs anyway... The easy first impression is he wanted to eat them, which in and of itself is creepy, but if you look for deeper Freudian meaning to Gargamel's little-blue obsession things get REEEEEally twisted... I mean, if the guy was just looking for a meal he already had Azreal...

There is nothing funny or flippant about eating your cat. I apologize to my personal feline denizen, Milo.

Anyhoo, so I'm led to believe that aside from a creepy music'ed menu screen, there's also a feature length film on this DVD! This news is so exciting I think I have no choice but to hit Play...
We open on an expanse of blue water, calm water, more like a lake or river than an ocean. The camera pans up to reveal a factory belching filth into the sky (credit to Sting for that line) just as we begin to wonder what far away locale this scene is taking place, it's like good old Pete reads our minds...

LONDON ENGLAND
February 18th - 1957

None of this 'the present' or 'a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away' for our man Pete. He's a scene setter you can set your watch by.

We switch scenes to a grey, seemingly abandoned carnival, with a lone black coated Brit walking with a purpose toward a dingy trailer. He is greeted by a sound effect staple creaking door and announces himself as Barry Nichols. A quick check of the IMDB page shows me that he's listed under the 'more' jump on the cast list, so my first guess is that Andrew Sachs, the portrayor of bad bad Barry isn't long for this flick...

Sure enough, Barry enters what will heretofore be known as The Fetid Trailer of Woe, and finds himself down an ear, and most of the left side of his face... It's all good though, he's all right now... In addition to this serious miscarriage of justice, someone just fell repeatedly on a harpsichord... Oh, never mind, that's the 'LOOK HE'S DEAD!!' theme from the Frightmare soundtrack.

We do not get to see the de-side-facing of Barry, an inconvenient fact that I hope will be rectified in future offings. Although, if prior Walker films are any indication, there's not likely to be another offing for the next 70 minutes or so... Here's oping this one is a little more House of Whipcord and a little less Die Screaming Marianne...

From here we are whisked to a very impressive looking courthouse, where the trial of Edmund and Dorthy Yates is just concluding. Apparently the Yateseses are some pretty twisted folk, as Judge Powder-Whig surmises that while he'd LIKE to sentence them to death, he has no choice but to institutionalize them instead, as the fall under the crown's legal definition of Batshit-Insane. I dunno, but I kinda get the feeling that decision is going to backfire in a corn-syrup-faux-blood-bath sort of way.

All this intrigue and missing face parts, and we're just now reaching the opening credits! Tarot cards are flying, and the red wavy font is as spooky as spooky gets. I fear I may wet myself... Hold me tightly internets...

We return to the aforementioned 'present day' where a gang of bikers is tearing up Flanagans Bar and Disco... OK, by 'present day' we of course mean '1974'. We know these bikers are bad news what with their feathered hair, mistreatment of the middle aged, kissing on the dance floor, and enjoyment of pinball. Somehow I feel that before too long their uppence will come.

Before long our biker troop is kicked out of this upstanding dance establishment, and we shift scenes to a more pedestrian crowd. a group of twenty somethings enjoying a friendly candle lit dinner, discussing everyone's favorite small-talk gab, the practice of psychology. Oh you Brits, always having to prove via film that you're better than us Yanks. I suppose this film isn't going to feature a single farting-round-the-dinner-table scene now IS it? Before too long the conversation changes course to the extroverted sister of one of our attendees, and an ill advised attempt at flattery by a horn-rimmed Buddy Holly impersonator. Everyone is made inexplicably uncomfortable by his small flirtation, as though he had just relayed a story about flashing a nun rather than made a gesture of kindness to a fellow diner... In both table manners and repression, the Brits have cornered the market...

Before we even have time to settle in for a little bobble and squeak, we return to the biker gang, this time they've followed home Flanagan's bar man whom our fearless Cockney motorhead is convinced insulted his lady fair. A Clockwork Orange style beat down ensues, and I'm beginning to see how these two groups are related. I'm guessing that the 'extroverted sister' mentioned at Britain's lamest dinner party is likely the fair maiden who's unchallenged honor is being erroneously defended by our wanna-be Alex. Alas, our walrus mustachioed barman will be no more than collateral damage in this one, but not before we find that the petite and pretty biker girlfriend is the most vicious fiend of the bunch, continuing the beating long after the portly drink slinger has hit the ground.

I asked for a BUD Light!!

Suspicions confirmed. Debbie the biker babe from hell is 'the sister'. We're also informed that the beaten bar tender has gone missing, never returning to the bar to be patched up. Perhaps our sweet Debbie is even more of a nefarious no-goodnick than previously assumed??

I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that before this one is over, we'll find out that Debbie and her sister are not in fact the orphans of dead parents, but the offspring of our Batshit-Insane supercouple The Yateseses... I have no proof of this, but we'll see if my Pete Walker-dar is fully functioning...

Not five minutes later my suspicions are confirmed when Debbie's sister Jackie sneaks away in the middle of the night to deliver a package to the Isle of Crazy, home to the Yateseseses. Just in case we're not sure that mother Dorthey Yates is a picnic missing the potato salad, the 'package' young Jackie has delivered seems to be oozing the tell tale corn syrup gore that stars in all Walker cinema... Jackie is apparently unaware of the evil she is bringing her mother late in the night, as is displayed by her strange dream in which she's presented a bloody gift by crazy Dorthey decked out in Debbie Harry style pancake makeup.

Once had a love, and it was a gas...

This just in: Debbie isn't a fan of pants. She prefers to run around without them. This is not a complaint by any means, just a point of fact.

Also, I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to know that the couple living in Kooky Castle on the Isle of Crazy are the Yateseseseses, since they seem to be selling themselves to the public as the 'Crosby's'. The latest victim... errrr... customer to stop by for a Crosby tarot card reading is likely about to find out just how out of her gourd Dorthey Yates Crosby really is.

Poor Buddy Holly is trying to make time with Jackie Psycho's-daughter, but is losing out to nutty Mommy. Jackie is inclined to run off in the middle of their date to handle some unknown mystery. No doubt relating to the bloodied pig face in the boot of nutty Daddy's auto. Jackie is peeved at Mommy's insanity leaching into her love life and she's ready to put a stop to in. Unfortunately for her, Jackie's interference is likely to have menacing results.

Crazy mommy wines and cries and outs that Jackie is not in fact her real daughter, but we have reason to believe that Debbie is, proving the genetic theory that the psychopathic apple doesn't fall to far from the fruitcake tree...

Whilst Jackie is off trying to straighten out her apparent step-mother's involvement in apparent serial murder, her apparent half-sister the equally apparent murderess is busy makin' time with Jackie's houndstooth coated Buddy Holly who has stopped by to peddle his psychiatric wares on poor disturbed Debbie who would much rather be getting into Buddy's pants than having him get into her mind. No good deed goes unpunished as the old saying goes. I'm guessing poor Buddy at worse is going to lose some body bits, and at best is going to be out a girlfriend...

Suspicions again confirmed. Our tarot card enthusiast stranger needed to meet the murderous Mrs. Yates/Crosby like she needed another hole in the head. As luck would have it, she's going to end up with both! Time for the tell tale Pete Walker corn-syrup-to-the-face-whist-grinning-maniacally shot...

At this point in the film I shall pause to use the restroom, and will take an opportunity to verify that all my power tools are present and accounted for.

I'm back, and ready for more corpse drilling madness.

Graham (our Buddy Holly) is committing the cardinal sin of a burgeoning relationship, berating his would-be paramour's treatment of her very likely psychopathic sister. Just a word to the wise, if you're trying to impress on a first date, you'd best not follow up your ill gotten attempt at seeing a movie by barging into your date's apartment, psychoanalysing her sister, and then lecturing her about how she doesn't know her family as well as YOU do, the guy who just met this young fruit-loop within the last hour. I was kind of under the impression that piece of advice went without saying, but apparently Graham's dating etiquette differs from my own. After all, I also wouldn't wear a tie to the movies...

Apparently between the previous night's shrink session and this morning, our little Debbie beat a Sherpa and stole his overcoat. Now she's having an alleyway meeting with her biker boyfriend, whom we have discovered since last seeing him that the wanna-be Alex is actually NAMED AleC... Subtle distinction there, Pete... Debbie leads Alec to an abandoned garage that she has been using to 'store things'. Things like THE SEVERED HEAD OF BAR TENDER!!! Despite his tough guy blue helmet, it turns out our Alec is freaked-the-eff-out by Debbie's dismembering and trunk stuffing ways. Or course, not so freaked out that he gets the hell away from her, just freaked out enough that he becomes concerned that the local cops are going to pin the murder on him. I'd like to think that if my lady offered me a disembodied one-eyed head as a 'gift', the potential of jail time would be the farthest thing from my mind. Then again, being a Yank, I'm still eagerly awaiting the farting-around-the-dinner-table scene...

Another day, another tarot-minded stranger for Dorthey to add to her stack of Black and Decker home lobotomy patients, but this time there's someone else on the property, peering through the windows at Dorthey's misdeeds. Will this heroic other be able to react in time, or is Delia the be-capped sooth-sayee as good as head-drilled? The suspense is killing me! Well, at least mildly startling me into not taking a nap...

How's about I deliver you a news paper in exchange for a tarot card reading?

This time we get the full zero-to-crazy in 3.4 seconds treatment from Dorthey the Deranged. She seems to be accusing this complete stranger, Delia, of some sort on nastiness that exists only in her mind. Delia doesn't take kindly to the outburst and makes the mistake of mentioning that she's paid handsomely for the tarot service and expects her fair reading. Alas, where's the better business bureau when you really need them. Still, Mrs. Yates offers a money back guarantee, provided you are able to gather the handful of cash she's heaved in your direction and run screaming from her chambers before she's reached her trusty Ryobi...

Our brave Delia does manage to avoid the drillin', at least for now, unfortunately she didn't watch out for the FLAMING EMBER CRUSTED FIREPLACE POKER TO THE GUT! Just in case we're not sure if such an intrusive violation would bring death on swift wings, Pete makes sure we're all on the same page through use of the post-stabby-death-blood-dribble.

It seems that in the land of the Yateseseseseses the drill is actually a culinary implement, which we discover when the nosey and bespectacled Graham tracks down the doctor who treated Debbie's mother in the asylum in which she was held. You see, Mrs. Yates isn't just a tarot card wielding fiend, she isn't just a perpetrator of murder most foul, she isn't just the victim of recurring bad hair days, she's also a CANNIBAL! That's right, when the Yateseseseseseses invite you to dinner, you're so much more than just a guest. What's more, judging fro her post-Dalia machinations it seems that Mrs. Yates doesn't even bother with cooking her food... I believe raw figure-skater-haired-Brits, like raw Pete Walker are prime carriers of all manner of squirming yucks. I fear Mrs. Yates is going to end up with quite the tummy ache...

Turns out that Mrs' Yateseseseseseseses psychiatric condition was brought on by her parents feeding her the family's pet rabbit during the Great Depression. A fact that disturbed the young Dorthey so greatly that a psychotic break led to a bloodlust that has only grown since that terrible day. Sometimes we never know how many victims will be claimed by a failing economy...
This has also given Pete a chance to fire a shot across the bow of the good old US of A. Dr. Lytell, the psychiatrist who was overseeing Mrs Yates whilst she was governmentally institutionalized offers a definition of the patient's condition. 'A Case of Carabantropy, psychological cannibalism. There's a couple of cases in the UNITED STATES but almost unheard of in THIS country...' Sure pal, Americans are FAR more likely to kill and eat each other than Brits are, but you know what, when an American does it, we don't stick them in a hospital for 15 years and then let them on their marry way to snack on more unwitting citizens... SOME countries KNOW how to imprison people-eaters, so put that in your pipe and smoke it mister. Dr. Lytell, fresh off his American bashing, reveals what we have ultimately known all along. Jackie is the daughter of Mr. Yates from a previous marriage while Debbie is the child of both Mr. and Mrs. Yates, born in the asylum and shipped off to a orphanage never knowing of her mother's flesh-eatyness.

Dr. Lytell informs Graham that the Yateseseseseseseses were released just a few months back. Released because they were completely cured... Well, except for that 'Mrs. Yates still like to kill and eat people' thing...

At this point in our film Jackie has stumbled across Debbie's bloody jacket, the one she was most likely wearing we she de-headed and de-eyed the bar tender, Mr. Yates has found out his wife is up to her no good murderey and cannibally antics again and is playing the role of the dutiful husband, helping her cover it up, and Graham has discovered just about everything he need to know about the sisters Yates and their wacky matron. Now will Graham be able to save Jackie fromher step-mother or half-sister? Will he be able to save Debbie from herself? Will he be allowed to keep his sweet, sweet wardrobe after shooting wraps? Tell us oh puppetmatser Pete!

Debbie sells Jackie a story about young tough Alec beating and killing the slinger of suds with a bicycle chain, copping only to hiding the body. Since we've seen Alec's response to her showing him the corpse, we know she's lying, and we know there's a good chance she gnawed out the gent's eyeball considering the atrocities of her mother. That not withstanding, Jackie and her Romeo Graham have headed off to the local police station in an effort to straighten out all this ickyosity. Debbie, being the sociopath she is, is much more concerned about being implicated in the bar keeps death that she is about her motorbike riding squeeze taking the rap for her crime. Will she make an effort to 'silence' Jackie and Graham? Get with the climactic ending Petey!

The police discover the body and can tell with little to no forensic prodding that this crime was not committed as Debbie claimed, via a bicycle chain beating. I'm guessing the first clue was the whole head-not-being-attached-to-the-body thing. The second clue was probably the whole one-eye-seems-to-have-gone-missing-from-it's-socket thing. The po-po with Jackie and Graham in tow head back to Jackie's flat to confront the lying Lolita Debbie and discover she's gone on the lamb. Just you guess which blue-helmeted bike riding accomplice she has sucked into her web of deceit... Will young Alec have an opportunity to mend his ways and spend the 1980's as a London based investment banker, or will his love for an underaged psycho lead to death most deadly? What say you Peter?

Just in case the young lovers Jackie and Graham don't already have enough on their plates, Jackie drops the my-step-mom-is-killing-and-eating-people-again bomb on Graham. Meanwhile, Debbie has lured Alec to Kooky Castle on the Isle of Crazy to hide out. Did Debbie know about her true mother's evilishness from the very start? Why you gotta go and leave so many unanswered questions Pete the W?

A knowing sneer and an 'allo Dad' from Debbie answers this one. Debs knew ALL about mommies dietary debauchery, and now mother and daughter are going to have to dispatch Alec post haste as he's stubled upon the haystack of gore growing in castles barn. Not wasting any time, mother Dorthey plays a little SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE PITCHFORK on Alec's guts while Debbie looks on hurgrily awaiting the meal that is sure to follow. This Lifetime moment of mother and daughter bonding almost brings a tear to my eye...

AHHH!!! Corn syrup stings!!!

Just to tally up the scorecard we've got Barry Nichols, Walrus Mustache the bar tender, tarot girl 1 Lillian, tarot girl 2 Delia, and Alec the blue helmeted biker dude. Five kills at 70 minutes in. Only time will tell if any more blood letting occurs in the final dozem moments, but either way, I'd say Pete's scored a win on the body count in this one. What we lack in the brazen women in prison styling of House of Whipcord we more than make up for in cannibal themed murder. The inclusion of anything interesting at all is enough to exceed the expoits of Die Screaming Marianne, so this one, even before reaching it's fruition, proves to be the best of the Pete Walker three pack!

While we were counting our Walkers before this one had fully hatched, Jackie spilled the beans to Graham that she's been taking cuts of bloodied organ meat from the local butcher over to Kooky Castle to convince Mother Maniac that she's been offing people so Dorthey won't have to. Graham being the-next-best-thing-to-Sigmond-Freud gets all uppity and wines about how she shouldn't be playing psychiatrist with a crazy woman. Again, giving her the business about trying to hold together here screwed up family probably isn't going to get you into those knickers pal...

Graham tries to convince Jackie that she's over reacting, and that Dorthey was certified sane and therefore she simply must be. After all, would BRITISH psychiatrist make a mistake? Somehow, his 'you're foolish and I'm better than you' act does in fact get him a little sugar, but Jackie throws up the stop sign before he can really get down to gettin' down. She suggests that Graham head for Kooky Castle on the Isle of Crazy under the guise of a tarot reading. Little does she know that she's not only blocked his carnal advances, but also signed his death certificate. Will Graham make it out alive? Eh, go ahead an off him Pete... He's kind of a yutz...

Alas, Dorthey and Debbie have more than fly to catch in their web of carniverous delights. They've captured Graham, now they just need to lure Jackie to the lair and finish 'tying up loose ends.' Debbie phones her sister to tell her that all is well at the Yateseseseseseseseses farm house, Kooky Castle on the Isle of Crazy, so Jackie should head on down for a game of Boggle with the family and their good friend Graham who's already arrived. Jackie, being exceedingly dense, agrees without much coaxing and gallops straight on into the spider's web. Will Pete do away with both our hero AND Heroine in a bloody final act? You know you want to, Walkernator...

Jackie arrives at the family stead, apparently too late for game night and her father impores her to leave at once. Jackie, being the devise through with thios plot is furthered, does not take her father's advise and goes searching the grounds for her oft-rebuffed love Graham. Following the sounds of electric doom, she finds him all right BEING POWER-TOOL-PERFERATED BY THE CRAZED YATES WOMEN! Good on you Pete, since the opening dinner party where he made everyone in the room uncomfortable by expressing a more than passing interest in our sweet Jackie that guy has been asking for the old extra-holes treatment. That'll teach him to express his feelings in mixed company!

As the curtain is drawn on this mecabre tale, Debbie is implored by her mother to make with the cleaver aided chop-chop on sister Jackie. To the final frame we're convinced that the sane-the-whole-time Mr. Yates will FINALLY step in to end the madness, but before he does the scene goes to a freeze frame and the credits role. There are no winners here, only more people-meat truly a frightening nightmare of an ending... One could say, a FRIGHTMARE!!!!

It may be due to the blog treatment, or maybe it truely is the Cadillac of this collection, but even before the everyone dies ending this was the cream of the Walker crop from the three movie collection. Truly an entertaining horror romp. Good show Pete!

Was it something in the 80's water??

So I've got the iPod on the shuffle setting, and I'm not really paying too close attention to what's playing (otherwise I so TOTALLY would have skipped past From a Distance. I WOULD... shutup...) and a song comes on that I don't immediately recognize.

I think to myself Hmmm... I don't REMEMBER downloading any Hall and Oates, I mean OTHER than Maneater, Private Eyes, Kiss On My List, and Sara Smile, but I can name THOSE tunes in less than 5 notes... So I decide I'm going to have to stop what I'm doing and see who's responsible for this Hall-esque & Oates-ish pop-rock douchebaggery, and it turns out it's KING CRIMSON!

Correct... 21st Century Schizoid Man King Crimson... Court of the Crimson King King Crimson... Here they are, carrying on like some fluff-haired MTV generated boy band! I guess ultimately though, I shouldn't be surprised. It happened to Genesis, and Yes as well. All the 1970's prog-rock icons for some reason morphed into simpering wimps at the turn of the decade. At least Genesis had an excuse. First they lose Pete Gabriel in '75, and then the coup de grâce, they lose Steve Hackett in '77. That kind of dynamic-shifting lineup change almost makes In Too Deep acceptable... There's no excuse for Yes' Rhythm of Love, or anything else off Big Generator for that matter...

Anyway, back to my Crimson disappointment... So the track is called Heartbeat and can be found on both the compilation The Concise King Crimson, and the 1982 studio album Beat. It cannot; however, be found on Youtube, because apparently the internets have taste.

The sadder part still is that the album containing this song is a big fat tribute to the Beat Generation, most notably the inspiration for my nombe de blog, Mr. Jack Kerouac. Now why did they have to go and sully up a perfectly fitting tribute to a great movement in American history by going all 'Top 40' with the album's only single? I tell ya, as much as I appreciate the 80's for bringing us Thomas Dolby and The Snorks, sometimes when I least expect it, the whole dame decade slaps me in the jaw and says 'You KNOW you like it, DON'T YOU!!'

The 1980's are a harsh mistress, and I am but a slave, taking the good, taking the bad, taking them both, and then I have...

Birthday Wishes to the world's greatest person, and a pretty good guitar player...

Today's birthday shout outs go to Led Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page, who's senior discounts go into full effect now that he has reached the age of sixty five. Page will be appearing at a local Denny's at roughly 4:45 this evening...

More importantly, happy birthday to the rock on which I anchor my tattered ship, the breath that fills my lungs, the single most important reason to wake up in the morning, my beautiful, brilliant, and amazing wife, CSD Julie... Whether in nombe de blog fashion or in the really real world you make my life so much more complete. I love you dear...

Since CSD Julie has yet to release an album of Karaoke classics, enjoy that OTHER dude's music... Complete with Viking Kittens!!!



For the more politically inclined, it is also the birthday of Richard Milhous Nixon, so feel free to go steal something, and upon your capture tell the arresting officer that YOU are not a crook... If Gerald Ford happens to be hanging around your local grey bar hotel you may even get a pardon out of it!

2008 Best Of's

Now that we have officially turned the page on 2008, it's time to dwell. Dwell on the wonderfulness sprinkled on top of a pretty historically crappy year. Aside from a joyous victory round about the 4th of November, and a promise that 2009 will be oh so much brighter in a matter of just a dozen days, there was also much worry, much loss of sleep, many lost jobs, and far too many new reality shows.

The year wasn't a total loss though, sometimes, when things are at their bleakest, you need to dig a little deeper to find the 'Win' buckshot scattered through the soft fleshyness of 'Fail'. Even the worst of times produced some great entertainment. After all, look at the 70's...

With that in mind, we will not 'dwell' so much as 'fondly reminisce' about the wonder and beauty 2008 held in it's wrinkled and nauseating paw. Keep in mind, this list as all others exists for two purposes, to provide my point of view on the year's accomplishments, and to inspire debate. I'm hoping you do not agree with my decisions and fire back your own thoughts in the form of blog comments. This is how I grow, and how I make 2009 an even brighter year than it already promises to be.

Without further ado, we shall unveil the categories on which I shall elaborate...

1. Best Album of 2008

2. Best New Artist of 2008 (Qualified entries must have released their first album, or at least the first widely distributed.)

3. Best Film of 2008

4. Best television series of 2008 (Qualified entries do not have to be in their first season, they simply have to have impressed during the 2008 calendar year.)

Once we have completed the look back, we'll take a look forward with:

1. 2009's most anticipated album that has no choice but to fall well below expectations

2. 2009's Artist to watch, because they may be crushed by their industry in a you-know-you-shouldn't-stare-but-you-can't-look-away sort of way, or could maybe even thrive.

3. 2009's flick I'm all jazzed about and will likely rend my flesh in two just at the mere thought of it's awesomeness to come.

4. 2009's television series with the best shot at being exceptionally enjoyable, at least until it's cancelled or inevitably jumps the shark.

I shall try my best to come up with new works I have not previously espoused upon in prior posts, but some repetition may be unavoidable. I'm also going to spend more time highlighting the year as a whole, rather than the specifics of my selection, allowing for a future album review. Hopefully by not passionately pleading my case I'll also open the door for some alternate suggestions...

Best Album of 2008: Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings- Counting Crows

As I peruse the dozen options I have listed as potential recipients of this prize I am struck by just how much good music was released in 2008, but as I scroll the list of releases provided by Wikipedia, I'm horrified by how many OTHER albums were released by talented artists that I missed while focusing on old MC5 tunes and digitizing my vinyl collection. This leads me to a 2009 goal. Not a 'resolution' mind you, but a goal. In 2009 I will make it a point to draw up a monthly list of albums to seek out. Finances and time may not allow me to actually get to all of them, but I would feel better if I at least KNOW what I'm missing out on. Seriously, I let new releases from The Breeders and Everclear go without even a notice, not to mention the Hillary Duff greatest hits disc...

Yeah, 'Greatest Hits', what the hell is up with that?

Anyhow, alternate also-rans in this category included: Vampire Weekend's self-tilted debut, Elvis Costello's Momofuku, Cover Up by Ministry, REM's Accelerate that I've spoken of frequently, B52's Funplex, No, Virginia the Dresden Dolls compilation CD, Fleet Foxes disc of the same name, Santogold's eponymous release, Partie Traumatic by Black Kids, David Byrne and Brian Eno's collaboration Everything That Happen Will Happen Today, and the latest from The Killers Day & Age

Here's a cut from SN&SM that will likely be destined to be forgotten, much like the final tracks from U2's Auchtung Baby, but just as Acrobat and Love is Blindness bring together one of the 90's best albums, this track Le Ballet d'Or is a guiltless bow to the audience, a chance for the Crows to put out something for themselves, rather than to sell records. Sometimes that kind of risk comes off like an experimental horror-show, but in this case, they've hit the nail on the head. Someday this is going on an iPod mix with the U2 tracks above, and Tori's Yes, Anastasia as an example of 'art' songs the artists need not apologize for.



Best New Artist of 2008: Vampire Weekend

Pretty much anything new I was exposed to in 2008 came from the KEXP podcast or XM radio's XMU indie rock station, hence my nausea relating to Hillary 'Lizzie McGuire' Duff not only putting out another album, but a 'Greatest Hits' no less. This is why top 40 radio is dead to me. Anyway, the boys of Vampire Weekend rocked my socks in a new direction as they managed to blend American indie-rock with world music beats in a way that could actually be described as 'enjoyable' rather than 'interesting'. So often the 'breakthrough' music styles that pit western traditions against the rest of the world's musical genres come across more as PBS fodder than groovable tunes, but VW has managed to seamlessly blend two worlds of music into an entirely new bucket of Win. Don't take my word for it though, get yourself a little Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa...



Other new artists who caught my attention in 2008 were Fleet Foxes, and Santogold mentioned above. Beyond that I spent most of the year catching up on missed music from years and decades long passed. Hopefully a side effect of my 2009 goal to at least note the newness coming to my local music providers on a routine basis will be exposure to more first timers getting their feet in the door of the music industry.

Best Film of 2008: Hamlet 2

Browsing the Wikipedia rundown, it looks like I saw 21 films released in 2008, and only missed about a dozen that I wanted to see but have yet to get around to. In the 21 I saw, there is more than one that was nothing but enjoyable, and a handful that were more painful than a swan dive into a swimming pool full of razor blades.

On that note, I just have to say, I went in to Sex in the City with expectations so low that 2 hours of a blank screen would have FAR exceeded by wildest dreams, yet somehow from the moment the celluloid hit the flickering light this film somehow lowered a bar that was already planted firmly to the floor until I actually considered stealing the 7" heels off the overly-dressed movie goer next to me to put out my own eyes. Had this been a horror film, it easily would have been the most effective of the genre to date. That being said, I recognize I was not the core audience, and for anyone who enjoyed it, more power to you. Suffice it to say I will not be attending the inevitable sequel...

So far, I've been filling in my suggestion, and then doing a writeup of the year, but I'm yet to actually select a best film of 2008 at this point in the writing. The music snob in me wants to pay homage to the like-a-concert-but-way-cheaper-and-no-jackass-in-front-of-you-pretending-his-cell-phone-is-a-lighter-during-One tour de force that was U2 3D, but I feel like choosing a concert film is a cop out. I could also make a huge case for either The Dark Knight, or Iron Man both of which showed that comic genre movies can include brevity, darkness, mad special effects skills, and STILL feature a well written story arc. Hopefully Spiderman 3 was watching and left the theater ashamed for letting everyone down in 2007. Dracula: The Musical as featured in Forgetting Sarah Marshall may have been one of the funniest plot devices in a film during 2008, challenged only by the morose version of the theme to The Muppet Show performed in the same flick. Honestly brilliant stuff. Burn After Reading was typical Coen Brothers excellence, Milk made me angry, and gave me a healthy hatred for my state, which is the best reaction one could hope for such a film, Indiana Jones: Kingdom of the Crystal Skull managed to exceed my admittedly low expectations and deliver an enjoyable action flick experience, and Zack and Miri Make a Porno was only slightly below-par for a Kevin Smith film, which is to say still better than darn near everything else available for one's viewing pleasure. I'm sure the DVD version will be even better with the added commentary track that's always good for a handful of chuckles on a Smith film.

OK, I've made my decision, which you already know, because you already read it above, but the choice is the quirky and infectious Hamlet 2, mostly because it didn't need to exceed diminished expectations, and equally didn't tread easy-to-please territory like a comic hero flick, a Judd Aptow comedy, of a Kevin Smith feature. It also scores points because I still find myself occasionally staring my cat in the face and saying 'What the fuck are YOU looking at?'

Here's a trailer. If you're yet to witness the joy of Rock Me Sexy Jesus, get thee to Netflix with the utmost haste!



Best Television series of 2008: Mad Men

I know, I'm kind of late on the scene to this one. Like a lot of good television, I didn't start watching from the beginning because nothing saddens me more than really getting into a show and then finding out it's been cancelled. (See Sports Night, Studio 60, Dead Like Me, Wonderfalls, Pushing Daises (now), New Amsterdam, etc.) I have half a mind to stop watching episodic television entirely and just waiting for the good stuff to come out on DVD except THATS why the shows keep getting cancelled! That, and the fact that Joe Reality is more than happy to humiliate himself on a 13 week run of My Loser Jackass Wannabe Boyfriend on the off chance he MIGHT be the one who gets the $100,000 prize and a Smart Car when the whole thing wraps...

Just in case you're not aware, reality television is the devil. Don't let him get his hooked horns and cloven hooves into you... No matter HOW entertaining you think it might be to watch models scratch and claw for a shot at a contract, it really isn't. It's sad, and it's degrading, to the audience even more so than the participants...

Anyhoo... So my friends over at Very Short List were all like 'you'll really love this show', and I was all like 'Yeah, a basic cable show about ad execs in the early 60's sounds THRILLING (sarcasm intended)' and they were all like, 'OK, we told you.' and so I decided I was going to act all big shot and be like 'whatever.' But the first thing I did was cruise over to Netflix to add season one to my queue.

So I get to Netflix and it's listed as 'Very Long Wait.' So VSL says it's good, and everybody who holds a Netflix account is waiting with baited breath for it so this MUST be THE show to see... Then again, I'm reminded of the lineup outside the theater for SitC... Sometimes the general public is just flat out stupid. So I kind of forgot all about Mad Men until I'm flipping through the channels and I see AMC is showing a 1st season marathon. This was early on a Saturday morning and it only took 1/2 an episode before my entire weekend was shot. Just like anybody else who's been sucked in by this show I'm physically unable to explain WHY it's so captivating, but it just effing IS... I swear to god if you watched frame by frame there's subliminal messages cut in between each take of office drinking, fabulous 60's furniture, and bullet bras that seem to be DARING to put your eyes out. Let me tell you, if you're going to blind yourself, that'd be a much better way to go than a 7" heel...

So I sat through the season 1 marathon, and caught season 2 as it aired. If you've not witnessed any of the greatness, do yourself a favor and slap in on the old Netflix list right behind Hamlet 2, or go buy a copy because you'll probably be waiting months before Netflix can ship it to you...

Here's a trailer, worth it for the set designs alone.



Other seasons of note, the always twistedly satisfying Dexter, soap opera-esque guilty pleasures True Blood and Dirty Sexy Money, the Fox animateds The Simpsons, Family Guy, and American Dad all remainded watchable if not in-their-prime, and another basic cable original, Psych pleased in mid-season, with new episodes set to start this week. check your listings peeps. It's worth it for the random 80's references alone...

So here's the point in the post where we take our finger off the rewind button, and firmly place ourselves in the capable land of fast-forward... For those of you new to the whole home-entertainment deal, that there was VCR talk... That's right, I'm a colloquial old-schooler...

What will 2009 hold? Let me play the role of prognosticator and make some predictions, at least based on the first quarter of the new year...

2009's most anticipated album that has no choice but to fall well below expectations: U2- No Line on the Horizon

Recent history tells me that U2's latest will be a little hard to swallow the first time through, but will be deeply ingrained in my psyche by the 2nd listening. At least, that's the way the last two albums, All That You Can't Leave Behind, and How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb treated me. The worry is this is the longest gap between U2 studio albums since their 1980 debut Boy, and the last time they waited even close to this long we ended up with Pop!, easily the weak point in a brilliant recording history. Still, U2 is to music what Kevin Smith is to film making. Even at their worst, the effort is likely to far out-pace pretty much anything else committed to digital sound in '09. Unless Elvis decides to come out of nowhere again with another studio album...

Also on the horizon (no word whether or not said horizon includes a line) are albums by Reel Big Fish, Morrissey, Franz Ferdinand, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead (easily the best band name to start with an ellipse EVER), The Prodigy, Coheed & Cambria, Pet Shop Boys, KMFDM, and wouldn't ya know it, Phish is going to start touring again... Say, good for them... (again with the sarcasm)

All that in just the first three months of the year. There's all sorts of dashed expectations awaiting me in that pile of recorded goodness!

2009's Artist to watch, because they may be crushed by their industry in a you-know-you-shouldn't-stare-but-you-can't-look-away sort of way, or could maybe even thrive.: The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

Far from a 'new' band, the Bosstones are back together to release their first studio album since 2002. I really wish the best for these gentlemen. As a Southern Californian I was given the distinct pleasure of listening to Bosstone front man Dicky Barrett on Indie radio 103.1 until he was unceremoniously shit-canned in 2006. Oddly enough, that pretty well coincides with the last time I listened to broadcast radio... HMMM... Dicky still has his day job (night job?) announcing and leading the band on Jimmy Kimmel's talk show, but it would be great to see the boys of the early 90's new-wave skacore movement get back to the studio, and hopefully onto the satellite radio airwaves...

As far as 'new' artists releasing debuts, I've pretty much got nothing, but it would probably be entertaining if no one bought into the latest Capitol Records boy band project Varsity Fanclub, but that's like asking a fish not to swim, asking a bird not to fly, and asking the mumbling masses to stop watching American Idol. I'm sure they will go platinum, and by the 2009 wrap up post I'll be dropping a WTF? about their 'Greatest Hits' album that'll come out 2 months after their debut hits the shelves.

2009's flick I'm all jazzed about and will likely rend my flesh in two just at the mere thought of it's awesomeness to come: My Bloody Valentine 3D

So normally I'm against the whole horror remake deal, but that's normally because you don't screw with perfection... There was no need for a new Halloween, although I was entertained by Rob Zombie's take on it. There is no reason to remake the original Friday the 13th, especially if you're going to screw old Pamela Voorhees and make Jason the killer right from the get go... There is exception to the rule though... For example, if you had a great slasher premise, like say, a deranged killer offing Nova Scotians on Valentines Day with his mining gear, but it just never really came together.

I know horror purists hold the OG MBV in quite high regard, but it was missing something... Something unidentifiable... Something that this year's model has stumbled upon...

Three Fucking Dee...



I'll probably see the new Ft13th flick too... even if it's only in TWO dimensions... Before the year is up I'm sure there will be a few dozen flicks that beat the holy living coal out of MBV 3D, here's a few potentials... Inglourious Basterds, Final Destination: Death Trip 3D, Watchmen, Land of the Lost, Horrorween (No idea what this is, but it's GOT to rule), The Wolfman, Sherlock Holmes, and who amongst us isn't already geeked about next Christmases Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakuel?

Yeah, me neither...

2009's television series with the best shot at being exceptionally enjoyable, at least until it's cancelled or inevitably jumps the shark: Lie to Me

Of all the questions, this is the one that brings me the most pause, mostly because no matter which upcoming show I select, odds are it'll only get three episodes before it's replaced by Bridezillas or When Bridezillas Attack... Hence, I went with the show that is beyond a doubt the single most likely series to get canned quickly that's been slated for the 2009 television season...

High Priced Star? Check
Decent to Movie-Quality production value?
Check Hype Like Crazy?
Check On Fox? Check and Mate

Tim Roth melds already existing shows The Mentalist and Psych into an entirely new kind of show. Why entirely new? Why because this time it's on Fox!! This particular title seems to have worth-watching written all over it. That's why I'll give it a watch, but no one under 25 or over 50 will, so those of us in-between will enjoy the two or three episodes Fox is kind enough to air before our dreams of decent television programming are once again dashed by the network's drive for profit margin. Oh well, at least there's Mad Men to go back to...

Here's the trailer Fox has been played ad nauseum.



If you like to get into shows and then have them taken from you, give it a watch! As far as other potential shows worth my time in 2009, I'm going to chose to abstain from uttering their names in the hopes that I may only kill one program this season... I suppose I could say Lost, or Desperate Housewives in the hopes that my death touch will leech into what's currently filling the airwaves, but I know even sub-par episodic television will just be replaced by more reality mindlessness, so better the devil we know...

Man... Sounds like I've got a serious case of the mopies... Alas, I'll cheer up by next post... So long as I don't get to rambling about cancelled TV shows...

I miss you Parker...

Birthday Greetings to Rock Royalty

Happy Birthday to that OTHER Elvis, you know, the Presley one. Had he survived he would have been seventy four today, or if you prefer, he IS seventy four today and still enjoying a life out of the spotlight working in a Nebraska 7-11...

Birthday wishes also go out to a man who by all accounts IS still with us, and who's crotch starred in Labyrinth. Mr. David Bowie is sixty two years young today. So at what point will he start aging rapidly so Catherine Deneuve can sequester his rotting corpse to her attic?

Since I'm not a huge fan of the OG Elvis, enjoy DB's The Heart's Filthy Lesson...

Random Review: No Mermaid- Sinead Lohan

It's been a while since I just done a single album write up. As a matter of fact, I've only done one, total, since starting the blog, so here' #2...

No Mermaid
Sinéad Lohan
Interscope Records
1998

From the titular opening track Sinead Lohan commands your attention, using her voice not only to convey the idiosyncratic self-worth manta 'I am no Mermaid, I am no fisherman's slave', but also through her lilting Irish drawl which is a seperate instrument in and of itself. Holding together the poinient lyrics and softened vocal harmony is a strong backbeat retiscent of softer trip op tunes like Massive Attack's Teardrop or Portishead's Sour Times.

Where Sinead seperates herself from these art-dance artists is that this is as hard as it gets. From the deep base and synth breakbeats she moves into an even more etherial place on the album's second track Don't I Know, and then changes gears to a 80's meets 90's euro-production tune Whatever it Takes with a sweeping acoustic-guitar-meets-fuzz-bass more reminiscent of Big Country than 90's Bristol's trip-hoppers, busting out high-school-notebook-scrawl lyric beats like 'You will find me, down by the river, getting high on my mortality.'

But just as soon as she's opened up the 80's pop whoop ass, it's back to a track that could have come straight off a Beta Band 7", Loose Ends. Had Sinead come from the bigger British Isle, she likely would have been tapped into the Bristol sound dominating the mid to late 90's British dance clubs, but as an Eire, she never really left the outskirts of the music scene. This could have had more to do with her folk-rock lyrical style than with her ethnicity, putting her somewhere closer to Bjork and Sarah McLachlan than her musical accompaniment would suggest.

Another factor that kept Lohan's No Mermaid, and her first album Who Do You Think I Am from achieving the level of American chart success of contemporaries McLachlan and Bjork is the frenetic style ofthe recordings. From the ambient 4th track to a dirtied down synth-pop empoyerment tune Whether Or Not that plays like a sequel to the album's opener, into the slowed down What Can NeverBe, channelling fellow countrywoman Enya in it's dream-pop styling.

Lohan does earn some of the McLachlan/everywoman Lilyth Fair connections with Believe It If You Like, a song that could have come from Ms. McLachlan, Alanis Morissette, or Tori Amos if you add a phrenetic piano solo. Resonating with the 90's 'we can work it out' movement with lyrics like 'Believe it if you like, you might as well be trying as doing nothing here at all.'

But just as you think you've got her pegged, she drops a tune that would be as at home on the B side of Joshua Tree as on a late 90's girl-power singer/songwriter album. Out of the Woods could blend seemlessly into Mothers of the Disappeared. It comes complete with an Edge-esque guitar riff that must be genetically linked to Irish guitarists.

Just as it seems that these yo-yo stylings would come to rest on one of the few dozen artists she's already channelled, our miss Sinead does it again, this time with a track that would fit along side the Peter Gabriel era Genesis classic I Know What I Like. People & Tables invokes images of ladies in waiting, fancy dress balls and jewel encrusted caskets. Much like Gabriel and Banks' iconic lawn mower, Lohan's credits include dropping her listeners in an alternate British society play, and you can tell her by the way she walks...

As the album starts winding down, Sinead treats us to a pretty standard love song with the way of the world songsmithing that comforts me like a warm fuzzy blanket of nineties. This was a say what you mean decade where honesty trumped prose and the most poetic things you could say were also the simpliest. Take a queue from Disillusioned 'I don't only love you when you're standing by my side, I don't only love you when you see things my way.'

Before calling it an album, Sinead returns to her Bristol-cum-Eire styling with another Portishead homage Hot on Your Trail. This one is brethier than No Mermaid or Loose Ends, lending a relatively unexplored air of sexuality to the recording. Don't let the sultry sound mask the harshety of the lyric however. 'Hot on your trail blood is red. Get on your high horse out of here. If they catch me I am dead. Get on your high horse out of here.'

At last though, our dear Sinead can't leave us soured and scorned. She delivers one final about face, the albums poppiest of tunes, Diving To Be Deeper. Lohan doesn't do pop the way Abba or New Kids on the Block do pop. She heads back to the Genesis story arc well, creating a leaping, diving queen who unfortunately cannot swim, and the wide eyed gentlemen who follows her on her watery path hoping to save the damsel from her self-imposed distress. Methaphor much? Taken with the album's opener we're left learning that Sinead Lohan IS No Mermaid, and as such she is her own person, a solid individual who still needs a rescue, even if the brave rescuer 'only took her money cause he thought that he could never really keep her.'

There's honestly nothing i dislike about this album. Some of the tunes are dated in such a pleasingly comfortable way that they bring be back to college, and late night rental movies, and a few fleeting months of disposable income spent on a majority of my 90's music catalog at Second Spin in Costa Mesa. Others are formulaic in sing-a-long-from-the-first-note way that makes you feel guilt for falling into the trap but damn it all, you have no choice, and still others are familiar in such an unexpected way because you'd never imagine being transported to the golden birth of prog-rock on a 1998 indie-folk-alt-dream-synth-pop record, but there it is, plain as day and ever so enjoyable. Long and short of it, there's very few people who are likely to really connect with this album cover to cover, but there are fewer still who won't find something to like in it's dozen tracks.

Unfortunately, this album has been discontinued by Interscope but it is still available used, and in our modern world, nothing is hidden from YouTube...