Bad Idea Blue Jeans

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #90: The Influence by Jurassic 5

2009-12-09T00:00:00.001-05:00

September 15, 1999

DATELINE: New York

The plan was now complete.

In April of my junior year, I was named general manager of the radio station. When I applied for the position, I did so with one goal. I needed to figure out a way to get a trip to the CMJ conference. This task proved to be easier than I expected, so I grabbed 4 staff members and made my first trip to New York City. We checked into our stereotypically cramped and run-down hotel room at 55th and 7th, stepping inside the front door while a a police officer yelled at people outside in a stereotypical Brooklyn accent. New York City was just like the movies! But we weren't here to gawk. We had business to handle, and a long day ahead.

This was the first conference I'd ever attended as an organizational representative, but I somehow instinctively adapted to the mindset of a conference attendee. That is, I established the minimum number of "panels" I needed to attend in order to converse about new ideas for the station when I returned to campus. At the same time, since I had assigned staff members to attend specific panels regarding sales, promotionm or programming, it pretty much allowed me to pick and choose how to spend the day. Needless to say, I don't remember any panels I went to, as I spent most of the time trying to plot out a plan for the evening to ensure seeing the maximum number of bands in the city. This was the timeline of the evening.

7pm. Roseland Ballroom. 3 blocks from our hotel. Guided By Voices played an early set, as they were opening for Cheap Trick. The early start time no doubt explained why this was the most sober I'd ever seen Bob Pollard at the start of the set. Of course by the end of the set he was still hammered and wearing a the remnants of a Bud Light cardboard case as a hat.

8:30pm. The Roxy. We take the subway down to Chelsea for the official opening night party. The remnants of Hurricane Floyd were unleashing a torrent of rain over the city, meaning all CMJ shows which would usually be filled with attendees in humid clubs, would now be filled with sopping wet attendees in humid clubs.

I was informed that the Roxy hosted "roller-skating" night each Wednesday, which seemed like an excellent idea for a place serving alcohol. Alas, this was Thursday, so there were no skates, but we walked in as about 15 Nigerians stepped on the stage. Femi Kuti walked to the microphone, and if you haven't seen this guy perform, you're missing out. He fused African beats with American funk, and his unbridled energy won over the entire crowd, despite the fact that we couldn't understand a word coming out of his mouth. It felt like we were watching something from another planet.

9:30pm. Knitting Factory. The group split up here. I really wanted to see Sparklehorse, but two in the group wanted to stay at the Roxy, and two wanted to go to the Wetlands to see Handsome Boy Modeling School. So I hit up the Knitting Factory solo. This turned out to be a slight misstep. The city and previous performance had me running on an adrenaline high, so suicidal dream-gaze pop was kinda bringing me down. If only I had the foresight at the time to channel my feelings into song.

10:30pm. Outside the Wetlands. While waiting for the Handsome Boy-goers to meet me on the sidewalk, a stranger asks me if I need any drugs. Right there on the street! New York is crazy! The next night, two of my friends would attempt to buy pot outside the Hammerstein before a Chemical Brothers show, only to discover afterward that they had in fact spent $50 on oregano.

11pm. Back to The Roxy. We had been told earlier in the day that Jurassic 5 was the buzz-worthy band to see. They hadn't put out a major label release yet, but were riding high as the new great hope among throwback hip-hop collectives. Indeed, they were exceptionally fun, and despite the fact that we had been up at 4am that day flying to NYC, the party carried through several more hours on the first of the four-night extravaganza. Though I couldn't help thinking it would have been even better if everyone was on roller skates.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #97: Who's Gonna Save My Soul by Gnarls Barkley

2009-12-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

Last week, I started writing something regarding the fact that decreased impact of terrestrial radio airplay has diluted the impact of the "one hit wonder" in relation to past decades. And yet I could never quite string together a cohesive narrative, primarily because the term "hit" at this point seems particularly difficult to qualify. It was much easier to chart a hit when radio airplay held higher cultural significance, or when MTV in fact played a steady rotation of videos, launching certain bands to buzzworthy status before they disappeared into the ether, never to be heard from again, unless they were included on embarrassing mixtape challenges.

But alas, nobody has informed Billboard magazine of the downturn affecting one hit wonders. They rolled out their top 40 of the decade today, and personally I find Daniel Powter's American Idol-fueled victory over James Blunt a significant upset.

While I always enjoy the occasional remembrance of Crazy Town, Billboard's #7 pick seems out of place.

Look, Billboard. First off, who is Ceee-Lo? Fuller, go easy on the e's!

Secondly, I don't think you quite understand what it is that people really enjoy about one hit wonders. For a one hit wonder to truly pack a punch, they need to vanish from the public afterward, removing their name from the collective consciousness in all cases (with the exception of trivia contests and state fair appearances.) In the case of Gnarls Barkley, it seems bizarre to include them on a list with expected one hit luminaries like Eiffel 65 and the incomparable Lou Bega**.

When comparing The Odd Couple with St. Elsewhere, it's probably a toss up as to which has aged better, but if news came tomorrow that Danger Mouse and Cee-Lo were recording another album, it would be a notable story, thus nullifying the obscurity that we associate with one-hit wonders. (Similar news about a new Vanessa Carlton album might go underreported by comparison.) People justifiably still regard Gnarls Barkley as both talented and relevant, and these are two adjectives that have no place when we're looking back mocking those whose singles we bought in our dumber days.

**The Bega inclusion should raise red flags since Billboard points out that his hit occurred in 1999, but it's impossible to get riled up about anything concerning Lou Bega, so I'll allow its presence on the list.

Chirstmas in December...oh, wait.

2009-12-07T21:59:00.005-05:00

God bless Michael Cera.

Cera is starring in the upcoming comic book come film Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. I'll admit I'm woefully ignorant of anything in the Scott Pilgrim universe when it comes to the Bryan Lee O'Malley works, but I am quite familiar with the origins of the name Scott Pilgrim.

The character draws its name from a song off of the second Plumtree album, Predicts the Future. So, knowing my affinity for all things Plumtree I was more than stoked to find out via drummer Lynette Gillis that Cera will be wearing a Plumtree shirt in the film. Take it away, Lynette.

You may have heard: Plumtree is making an (onscreen) comeback! Thanks to Bryan Lee O'Malley, whose comic-turned-Universal pictures movie, The Adventures of Scott Pilgrim, stars Michael Cera wearing this yellow Plumtree shirt! So, now we have both yellow and black shirts for sale and a website on it's way. Soon we'll be receiving PayPal orders through the site but for now you can order shirts directly from us. $20 + shipping. Please write us here or at plumtreerock@gmail.com for more information.
xo, Plumtree

Not only will Plumtree be getting some serious pub thanks to George Michael Bluth, I finally have something to add to my Christmas wishlist. Dreams really do come true. The shirt in fact says "Mass Teen Fainting" in homage to the title of Plumtree's first album. I only hope that yellow shirt of Scott Pilgrim is as popular as the yellow shorts of Paulie Bleeker.

My real Christmas wish is that the unquenchable popularity of this nebbish overflows and the public demands Plumtree reunion shows. I could thereby drop some cash and make a weekend of a Plumtree/Get Up Kids "Fantasy Reunion" tour. (Get Up Kids are back together!...in Australia, damn). It'll happen, come hell or frequent flier miles.

All I need is one more Hum reunion show and I can have my Christmas in peace. Please God, allow some costume designer to buy Gob a You'd Prefer an Astronaut shirt for the Arrested Development movie and we'll all be in luck.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #17: Say It To Me Now by Glen Hansard

2009-12-07T00:00:00.000-05:00

It's two days in a row focused on movies starring two non-actors. Unlike the "film" showcased in yesterday's post, Once manages to not be a abject failure on every level.

Of all the movies I've ever recommended to anyone, Once is undoubtedly the most difficult for me to articulate why it needs to be seen. The plot is not a particularly uncommon storyline. To call the writing minimal is a vast understatement, and the documentary-style shooting employed in the film has at this point become an independent film archetype, if not a crutch in many cases.

But critical analysis and dissection don't do justice to the overall soul of the opening credits.

I remember sitting in the theater watching and almost literally rolling my eyes at the cute "formation" of the title graphic. But then the song got going, initially far off in the distance, echoing through a bizarrely desolate Grafton Street. The eye-rolling stopped pretty quickly.

Throughout the remaining 80 minutes, scene after scene continues to achieve a tonal balance. But the initial open still packs that punch, when you find yourself witnessing something that will turn out to be far different, and infinitely better, than you thought going in.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #6: Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson

2009-12-06T00:00:00.042-05:00

The Emmy category for reality shows has existed for seven years, and The Amazing Race has won it every year. This annual win always makes me happy, primarily because I enjoy any quantifiable result that punishes American Idol, a show which is not only terrible, but often can't even get off the air on time. I've been involved with my producing my share of televised garbage in the past, but at least our garbage ended when it was supposed to.

And yet, my utter contempt of how American Idol has made a (further) mockery of popular music is at odds with the one exception to the rule of awful: Kelly Clarkson. But why focus on Kelly's high points, when instead I can look back fondly on another American Idol-based debacle?

With that in mind, I decided to finally watch the 2003 film From Justin to Kelly. As you can guess, I would immediately regret this decision. Consider this an official Bad Idea Film Review.

Kelly Clarkson is traveling with her two friends (who I will name Blond girl and Black girl) to Florida for spring break. Justin (AKA Big Haircut) has two friends as well, and the three of them have a business throwing parties? On the beach? On spring break? Of course! This makes perfect sense. How else would bars attract kids during spring break, if not by paying three college idiots to be their "promoters"? This is the first time we will meet Justin’s crew, and the scripted exposition makes it crystal clear how tight this threesome is.

How are these three people friends with each other? The nerd is just now telling his friends about this girl he met online? That topic never came up on the WAY to Florida? He clearly doesn’t like the beach, or even seem to enjoy being outdoors for that matter! And the only "contest" that Open shirt McGee should be judging is the "Which solo cup contains the roofie?" contest. I do enjoy how they make a note of telling the viewer that Big Haircut is a ladies man, because none of his actions throughout the rest of the movie would indicate this.

But we don’t have time for character development here! We need to break out the music! The first song takes place literally six minutes into the movie. You don’t need to see all of this; I think the dance balls/skating clip sums it all up.

What do you mean you're out of dance balls? How am I supposed to dance without a dance ball? I might as well just stand near the skate ramp like an asshole!

So Kelly and Big Haircut dance with each other for about 15 seconds, never speaking a word to one another. Naturally, by THE NEXT SCENE, Haircut tells Frat guy, (and I quote,) “This girl is special, man. I’m gonna find her.” Professional screenwriting, ladies and gentlemen!

And find her he does! Haircut is trying to avoid the mob of women who are literally chasing him for wristbands to compete in the aforementioned whipped cream bikini contest. Anyone who’s ever been in a similar situation can relate – when women think there’s the slightest chance that a bikini contest might go off without them having a chance to enter, those bitches be wildin', son! As Kelly and Haircut bond in the women's bathroom, the chemistry between these two non-actors who have memorized lines is intoxicating! (Also, stay tuned to see people watch a guy tap dance at the end of the clip.)

Who knew that a window IN PLAIN VIEW qualifies as a “secret exit” in a bathroom. THANKS FOR THAT SECRET EXIT THAT WILL EMPTY MY CLUMSY ASS RIGHT BACK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BIKINI-CRAZED MOB, KELLY CLARKSON! And how about the scientific properties of paper towel that cause it to immediately sink like a stone when coming in contact with the shallowest amount of water. Oh well, that paper towel is soaked, so I suppose they’ll never find each other again. Have fun dying alone, Haircut and Kelly!

Did I point out the dudes tap dancing for the crowd?

Spring Break! Bojangles style!

After the bathroom fiasco, Haircut runs into Kelly’s friend Blond girl. He asks Blond girl for Kelly’s phone number, but Blond girl instead gives Haircut her (Blond girl's) number instead. This begins a sequence of text messaging where Haircut thinks he’s texting Kelly, but is actually texting Blond girl, who inexplicably is sabotaging Kelly, AKA HER BEST FRIEND WHO SHE DROVE TO SPRING BREAK WITH. Again, how are these people friends? Blond girl is a total bitch, and there’s no reason at all given for such behavior. It’s honestly baffling to me that someone wrote this. Then again, based on how he sends text messages, Haircut may be retarded.

Who knew that the kids today needed to further abbreviate words like "take." "MAYBE YOU HAVE TIME TO SPELL OUT FOUR-LETTER WORDS, OLD MAN, BUT NOT ME! I'VE GT PLCS 2 G!"

While Kelly voices her frustration that she hasn't gotten a call from Haircut, the girls run into the guys again at the aforementioned whipped cream bikini contest. We know that the contest is crazy because they seem to be stocked with at least HALF A DOZEN cans of whipped cream. Kelly is shocked - SHOCKED! - that a guy who seemed so gentlemanly and debonair during their meaningful bathroom connection could be so chauvenistic as to host this parade of decadance and sodomy. So she grabs a can of whipped cream and blasts Haircut with a facial. Miss Independant has spoken!

After that happy ending, you'd think Kelly would be done for good with Haircut and his tomcatting ways. But instead she accepts a boat ride date in the following scene. (Also, neither of them bring up the texting confusion. I'm sure that problem will just go away!) The boat date scene is probably my favorite part of the whole film, as we reach an emotional high point, where the star-crossed vacationers belt out a heartfelt power ballad while NEVER LOOKING AT EACH OTHER.

Get a room you two! And once you check in to that room, you can each pick opposite walls to stare at!

But once again, Kelly and Haircut have future plans sabotaged by Blond girl's ongoing battle of supreme bitchiness through texting. And YET AGAIN Kelly and Haircut randomly run into each other at a terrible party. and YET AGAIN neither of them bring up the case of the missing texts. They've got other things to deal with. Things such as Haircut and some dude who decided to "fight" over Kelly. Let me just say that in a screenplay full of terrible cliches, I did not see this method of battle coming:

That looks like the best Survivor challenge ever! I bet the prop master got a great deals by buying the "fight balls" at the same time as the "dance balls."

So Haircut wins the battle (winning=not drowning, apparently). But unfortunately for him (and for us) nobody drives a hoverboat over Blond girl's bitchy face, so she adds another chapter to her best-selling memoir of how to ruin her best friend's spring break. Blond girl cements her place in hell by putting the moves on Haircut while a distraught Kelly observes from afar, leading to a classic confrontation.

BOOM! ROASTED!

Literally within 7 minutes of this scene, Blond girl admits her transgressions, Kelly and Haircut get back together, and the cast dances to KC and the Sunshine Band. Perfect.

What's truly amazing about this film is that it only runs 81 minutes from first frame to last, but actually could have been edited to half that time by removing the ridiculous amount of filler within. Kelly's friend Black girl has an up and down relationship with an ethnic dishwasher. Haircut's nerd friend has a subplot where he gets sunburned looking for his online girl ("Where are you, Claudia93?"). And the frat boy spends the movie freestyle rapping and racking up fines from one of them "beach lady cops," who of course reappears toward the end of the film to fuck him. (It's a PG film, but we can read between the lines.)

From Justin to Kelly currently ranks #21 on the IMDB bottom 100. But in my heart, it's hard not to put it at #1 with a bullet. A bullet to the back of my brain.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #18: Smash Your Head by Girl Talk

2009-12-05T00:00:00.000-05:00

Photo via Flickr
When Night Ripper was first released, it seemed like virtually every article about Greg Gillis mentioned that at some point, Gillis would likely be sued by every record label/band/rapper on the planet. This has proven to not be the case at all. Despite my best research, I couldn't find a case where anyone had taken legal action, and there's clearly a big sample size to choose from. Granted, the fact that Gillis literally gives his albums away on Illegal Art's website means he's not breaking the bank from his studio outputs, so he's not flaunting riches in front of those whose work he drawing from. Still, it seems kinda amazing that members of Kansas or Steve Winwood's attorneys haven't tossed out any cease and desist letters.

As Gillis himself pointed out last year, this exchange of media and variety of remix has developed to the point where it no longer contains the shock value of 2 Live Crew battling Roy Orbison over fair use copyright. Today, original sounds are remixed or mashed-up and thrown onto youtube at record speeds. And yet, as the number of amateur mash-up artists has exploded, Gillis's reputation has only grown, as his attention to detail and interplay between subjects has left the standard "slap one set of vocal over a different music track for a few minutes" schtick obsolete.

Indeed, while most mash-up song productions end up seeming far longer and unimpressive than the sum of their components, Gillis quickly mastered the art of leaving the clips short and keeping them moving. I still get a little pissed whenever I hear Pixies riffs in Girl Talk songs, if only because I know they'll be gone in eight short measures or so. And yet the disappointment is just as fleeting, as before you know it you'll be reminded of how much you truly enjoy Heart, or trying to figure out which one of your friends can come up with the Sophie B. Hawkins reference first. Seriously, throwing on a Girl Talk album for a road trip is like a ready made trivia game, and far more fun than trying to spot a Missouri license plate.

When dealing with literally an infinite pool of resources, not all the combos work (the Jay-Z/Radiohead sequence off Feed the Animals is surprisingly underwhelming), but the low points disappear just as quickly as the successes, and the misses never leave the lasting impression that the hits seem to. The Biggie/Elton John sequence on "Smash Your Head" has become Gillis' "Free Bird," a trademark result of the perfect mix of genres and eras, delighting all who hear it. But nearly as impressive is the slow grower that precedes Elton and Biggie, where Nirvana sear through Young Jeezy. Not every second is brilliant, but every second is pretty damn fun, and that's more than you can say for a lot of albums.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #81: The Trapeze Singer by Iron and Wine

2009-12-04T00:15:00.024-05:00

CLASSIC BEARDS OF THE DECADE

Sam Beam's beard AKA "The Intellectual"

Sure, he may have been a college professor before embarking on a career in beard-folk. But I imagine Sam Beam's teaching style as similar to that of Donald Sutherland in Animal House, or Gruber in Freaks and Geeks. Does this look like a man who's organized a campus protest or two? Of course he has. While audience requests between songs are a concert staple, I once witnessed first hand a concert-goer yell out "What are you reading?" to Beam, proving that beards can serve as nerd magnets.

Fleet Foxes beards AKA"The hirsute harmonies"

Let's face facts, at this point, the question on everyone's (AKA "my") mind is this. What is the deal with the clean-shaven Fleet Fox? Is he not allowed to grow a beard? It seems as if he's the only one not allowed to sing, so perhaps it's a package deal, but either way, I haven't been this interested in someone's facial growth since I was a child, baffled over the "other guy" in ZZ Top.

Devendra Banhart's beard AKA "The patchouli shampoo"

He helps kid develop their coloring skills, and somehow looks even creepier when he's clean shaven. His beard and musical output have followed similar trajectories, peaking in terms of quality in the middle of the decade, and gradually impressing less with each year since.

Kyp Malone's beard AKA "Beard Science"

Stephen Colbert has made no secret of his tenacious drive to ask the hard-hitting questions. But no question delighted me more than when he interviewed TV on the Radio and asked if he could stroke Kyp Malone's beard. When given the go ahead, Colbert declared the experience to be "like a vacation in a far away forest." A forest packed with werewolves, I'm guessing.

Jookabox beards AKA "The shirtless wonders"

This Asthmatic Kitty write-up of the new Jookabox album is outstanding. I had no idea, but it seems "the east side of Indianapolis in the 90s, [was] an area plagued by constant recession, pandemic homicide, and racial tension. A few strong tribes chose to stay in the area despite constant warnings from fleeing acquaintances." Holy shit! To think that I spent my childhood going to the Roller Cave without ever declaring my allegiance to 2-1 or the Hellraisers! I'm luckily to be alive.

When I was in high school, I remember N.A.P. making similar claims about the war zone of 21st and Post. I was highly skeptical at the time, but in hindsight perhaps I owe them an apology. Could it be that niggas truly weren't playin'?

(In all honesty, whoever is doing P.R. for Asthmatic Kitty deserves a raise.)

Will Oldham's beard AKA "Bonnie 'Prince' Beardy"

Is it the beard that makes his face look so bizarre? Or is it the other way around?

Mark Everett's beard AKA "B"

EELS - "That Look You Give That Guy"
by Cooperative-Music
What a letdown. You spend all day getting every detail of your beard, and the night in general, perfect. You avoid a potential milk mishap while Padma is enchanted with your globe and collection of leather-bound books. Just when things are at their peak, your damn dog throws on a tux and a top hat, and suddenly the dream with Padma comes crashing down right before your eyes. We've all been there, but that doesn't make it any easier. Learn the code, dog!

Dan Auerbach's beard AKA "The hockey playoffs"

It's hard to believe, but this photo is NOT a mug shot.

Doug Martsch's beard AKA "The elder statesmen"

He's the unstoppable force. Year after year Built to Spill force people who hate jam bands to ask themselves, "Are these guys a jam band?" The albums say "No!" but the beard says "Of course! What kind a stupid question is that! Are you even seeing this beard!" The live show comes down somewhere in the middle.

?uestlove's beard AKA "The second fiddle"

It's the most underrated beard in music, due primarily to the attention-grabbing due on top of his head. If his afro is Kid A, then the beard is Amnesiac, lost in the shuffle of what precedes it, but a classic when judged on it's own merits.

But I'm primarily putting this photo up to ask a crucial question. What is the deal with Japanese kids and their widespread obsession with the peace sign? Is there a logical reason behind it? Is it some type of motor-skill developed through mind control of all Japanese infants? I mean look at these kids! Perhaps Ross MacLochness can offer an explanation from his time in the Orient. Needless to say, all those peace signs make me think there's some sort of plotting going on.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #59: Pyramid Song by Radiohead

2009-12-03T00:01:00.000-05:00

Enough chatter. Let's talk bottom line. This is the best song Radiohead have ever written. Real talk!

It's also a source of endless entertainment for me personally, as I recall a 2001 night in West Hartford, Connecticut, wherein two of my friends got into a lengthy debate over the correct time signature of this song. It was an epic war, comprised of words and hand drumming, and me alternately taking each of their sides, ultimately ending without resolution. In fact, it's a fight that has never truly been settled between them to this day. It also sadly ranks in the upper half of entertaining activities that can be generated within the state of Connecticut.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #14: Wolves (Act I and II) by Bon Iver

2009-12-02T00:15:00.010-05:00

Two minutes and 54 seconds into this track, one of the most personally captivating musical snapshots I've ever heard takes place.

This moment takes place within an album about which the back story has become indie folklore. And indeed, it's pretty much impossible to hear a Bon Iver song without picturing the interior of that snow-covered Wisconsin cabin in your mind's eye. It feels cold and lonely and necessary. The remoteness and solitude embeds itself within every moment of the album's 37 minutes, and captures a soul-crushing intimacy that previously hadn't been pulled off since Elliott Smith died. It is relentlessly authentic and raw in its magic.

Until that moment, 2:54 seconds into "Wolves."

It's more or less the halfway point of the song. To call the first half of the track a minimalist composition is an understatement. There are points where you wonder if he'll even continue after the first couple lines. He gives an extra beat or so to the pacing, and you find yourself wondering where it's all going. The he resets. And it happens.

2:54 in. Twice, on the "What might have been lost" lines, there's that added manipulated lilt to the word "lost." I've listened to it literally hundreds of times, and I'm still not entirely sure what he's doing there. Did he simply double the vocal tracks, tweaking his harmonies? Did he use auto-tune for that one fleeting moment? (His work on the following EP would suggest this is the most likely scenario.) Regardless of the origin, the fleeting moment is the only obvious "effect" within the album, and something about it fascinates me, no matter how often I hear it. Once you initially recognize it, it's already gone.

The phrase repeats itself over and over. It's unclear whether he's asking "What might have been lost?" or offering a fleeting lament ("What might have been lost...") Regardless, it serves as an emotional center while the looped harmonies and instrumentation start going apeshit, swirling around and wrecking havoc on the periphery. The calming mantra remains undisturbed, anchoring everything down, through the aftershock that closes the track. As the opening notes are reprised, the storm has passed, and the simple images remain intact. A cabin. A chair. A guitar. A song.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #60: I Summon You by Spoon

2009-12-01T00:30:00.006-05:00

I'm a big fan of Black Cab Sessions, as it answers a question that has haunted mankind since perhaps the beginning of time itself. Does music sound better when performed in the back of a British taxi? The definitive answer: I guess so?

And now, a completely unrelated thought of the continuing glory of The Room.

Here's Patton Oswalt doing his best Tommy Wiseau impression.

I found this production a bit underwhelming. Amusing for sure, but somehow amounting to less than the sum of its parts. I had a similar reaction to David Cross channeling Wiseau. Anyone who has ever watched The Room, or seen Wiseau speak in a non-scripted setting can see why he's fodder for impressions. The man is a lunatic, routinely stringing non sequiturs together with the gracefulness of a drunken chimp. But this is also the reason why any impressions - even those done by legitimately funny people - come off as cheap. Because they seem drastically inferior to the real thing. I mean examine the following clip, where Wiseau claims to have hired understudies for all actors! And he gets lost in describing a drug scene that he wrote himself!

Has it ever been funny when someone has done an impression of Bob Dylan singing? No, because it's never as amusing/perplexing as Bob Dylan singing himself (or Dylan doing anything other than singing, for that matter). The same corollary is valid for anyone mimicking the speech patterns or general thoughts of Wiseau. Am I comparing Tommy Wiseau with Bob Dylan? In this instance, yes I am, in that they could duel each other in an out-crazying contest and would probably end in a draw. Here's hoping that someday Tommy Wiseau tries his hand at putting together a shot-by-shot remake of the "Must Be Santa" video.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #22: Sing Me Spanish Techno by The New Pornographers

2009-11-30T00:01:00.000-05:00

On a 2006 workday, I heard a co-worker playing "The Bleeding Heart Show", and the following conversation took place:

ME: This album is great, isn't it?

HIM: Yeah it's been a while since I've played it.

ME: I just saw the video that came out for "Sing Me Spanish Techno". Have you seen it?

HIM: Yeah, The one with the famous drag queens, right?

ME: Uhhh....are they famous?

HIM: I think so? [Utilizing the always fun "phrase a sentence as a question" move.]

ME: (Silently nodding) Uh, OK. Take it easy.

Years later, I still wonder where the fame threshold is it relates to drag queens. Perhaps the two guys in the New Pornographers video are famous within their demographic, but why hasn't there been a crossover drag queen superstar since RuPaul?

Perhaps, as John Mulaney claims, it's all about communal attitude. When all drag queens act the same, it can be difficult to stand out as unique. Take note, drag queens. Don't be a follower. Go with yourself!

Jokes.com

John Mulaney - Drag Queens

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BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #46: Ignition (Remix) by R. Kelly

2009-11-29T01:47:00.001-05:00

Remember earlier this year when Pitchfork felt it necessary to actually review The Beatles' catalog? That was awesome. Is their any other website that could pull off such unfiltered pomposity in feeling they could actually say something new and worthwhile about The Beatles that nobody else had thought of in the past 40+ years? Just think, mankind once spent decades wandering the wasteland of a perplexing society, pondering an uncertain afterlife without the knowledge that Beatles For Sale rates a 9.3, or Please Please Me is a 9.5. Congrats, Animal Collective! You're better than the damn Beatles! Simply stunning.

Here's my point. There are times when you have to admit to yourself that you have little to add to the discourse of a particular topic. In the case of "Ignition," (the song with "Remix" in the title though there's apparently no non-remixed version), once John Darnielle constructed a list of 100 reasons to describe it's greatness, it became obvious that further dissemination would be clearly unnecessary.

In seeking out public testimonials, Darnielle actually came up with far more than 100 reasons, but his final edited list on his Last Plane to Jakarta blog is streamlined and formatted for the easiest read. Among my favorite points:

3. How is this song in particular a good "weekend" song? For starters, there's the delay in mentioning the weekend. Note a shitty "weekend" song, Loverboy's "Working for the Weekend," for purposes of comparison, which shoots its entire wad in the chorus's first line & then has nothing compelling to say.

54. There's the sudden change in vocal tone in the chorus, right at "mama rollin' that body" - where R Kelly reveals himself to be not just a consummate soul singer, but a pretty clued-in one. Loop that damned line. "Mama rollin' that body": who's that? It's not Kelly. I mean it is him singing, but whose moves is he copping?

58. Oh Christ it's Shaggy, where the hell did that come from?

87. but beyond the pop joy of "bounce bounce" it's the sound of beleaguered R Kelly, whose troubles are known to even a casual pop listener but are known well by exactly the people who he'd rather knew nothing about them: people like me, the people who bought TP-2.com even though it had one of the worst album titles of all time

The album featuring "Ignition" was not given a review on Pitchfork. But I for one, look forward to the year 2037, where I can sleep easily knowing that it's earned an 8.3. Bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce.

R. Kelly - New Music - More Music Videos

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #71: Irreplaceable by Beyonce

2009-11-28T02:20:00.000-05:00

Pop music is, of course, littered with abhorrent trends. But none irritate me more than the "art" of the vocal run, wherein a singer shows off his or her "talent" by attempting to hit somewhere between 3 and 87 notes within a single syllable. I don't understand how anyone can possibly enjoy listening to such horrors. Everyone knows that Christina Aguilera can sing. Does that mean we have to just sit back and take the abuse while she goes on her perpetual quest for the damn brown note?

The quest for vocal histrionics has become a bizarre American Idol-like litmus test. Who gives a rat's ass if you can sing. Can you sing in 4 different octaves and annoy the shit out of anyone within ear shot? Yes? Then welcome to the music biz kid!*** No? Then take your played-out act back to that karaoke hell from whence you came, MC Borophyll. And don't even think about ever singing the National Anthem before a World Series game.

This thesis doesn't simply apply to vocals. It fits for production and instrumentation as well, and as such I tend to be split right down the middle on the majority of Beyonce's catalog. That high-pitched Nintendo-esque sound effect that permeates most of "Single Ladies" annoys the shit out of me, but tracks like "Halo," "If I Were a Boy," and especially "Irreplaceable" thrive with their simplicity and restraint. It's oddly refreshing to hear an R&B track where the producers haven't made it their main focus to reinvent the wheel, and the singer actually keeps the melody in check. If Mariah Carey sang this song (and if people still recognized Mariah Carey songs) she would manage to mangle it in four different octaves.

In addition, I love the video appearance of the 12-woman band for a song that seems to feature a bare minimum of instruments. I can't even hear a bass in the audio track, yet there's women toting bongos and saxophones. Apparenty two live dummers = one click track. The more you know.

***NOTE: Even if you do manage to kill small rodents with high-pitched vocal runs, we still won't turn a blind eye to receiving simulated head on stage during the AMAs. Especially if you're just the Idol runner-up. Rules are rules.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #89: 156 by Mew

2009-11-27T13:00:00.000-05:00

No matter where you live, local news is terrible. When I was a college freshman, we were given a class project where different students each wrote a script and direction shot list for a different component of a mock local newscast. Our instructor informed us that recent studies had determined that the top reason most viewers gave for watching their local news was weather coverage, which is entirely expected. However, the #2 reason was initially a bit more puzzling: Lotto numbers. At first, I wondered if society simply contained more degenerate gamblers than I previously thought. But now, I think it's all about lowered expectations. Viewers know they can count on a weather report and the lotto numbers, but anything else is a crap shoot. Will the top story be a report from downtown on a string of lights from a war memorial, still being erroneously called a "tree?" Or will the local hard-hitting investigative reporter blow the roof off a scam involving faulting ceiling fans? Nobody knows, but they know it will be awful. And that it may involve "ball tapping."

Thank you WTHR for blowing the roof off a legitimately horrifying practice of guys punching either other in the balls. And to think I expected to make it through the Thanksgiving weekend without ever reading this sentence:

Years of enduring ball tapping had finally taken its toll. Undetected scar tissue had completely sealed off Jake's urinary tract, resulting in horrifying pain.

YEARS! Not for nothing Jake, but I make it person policy to put an end to any ball tapping after a maximum of one year. SINGULAR. Hell you could have called the news crew after a couple months and they would have done the story. They're looking for features to do. Right now, there's no doubt a crew wandering around Castleton mall, hoping for the Holy Grail of ball tapping intersecting with Black Friday. A Pulitzer can't be far behind.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #64: Impossible Germany by Wilco

2009-11-24T01:17:00.000-05:00

Last summer, I went to see the Nels Cline Singers play at Martyr's. I went in without ever hearing any of Cline's overwhelming catalog of solo work, but a friend gave me two pieces of advice beforehand.

1. Don't expect anything remotely resembling Wilco.

2. Do expect it to be really, really loud.

These proved to be sound pieces of advice. The sound reverberated through the room to that point where you start to wonder, "Is it okay that I can feel my own heart vibrating within my chest?" And you could clearly tell from various reactions around the room who the people were that were hearing something a bit different from their expectations. It's probably the same reaction you might get from someone who loved The Straight Story, and thus attends a screening of Mulholland Drive.

Personally, I thought the performance was a highly entertaining look at what Spinal Tap may have been aiming for during their Jazz odyssey phase. Especially if you replaced "Jazz" with something along the lines of "Avant-garde-noise-rock-kitchen-sink-jazz odyssey." I'm not sure how else I would categorize offerings like this:

The more I learned about Cline's solo work, the more surprised I was that he would ever cross paths with Jeff Tweedy in the first place. But then again, his timing at joining the band makes sense considering when Tweedy started his working relationship with fellow man-of-noise Jim O'Rourke. At this point, I'd love to see Cline's stylistic strengths utilized a bit more on the next Wilco album. While the majority of Sky Blue Sky is certainly enjoyable, there's not much of it that seems actively exciting as the band can be at their peak.

"Impossible Germany" is clearly the exception to this theory. It's one of the few great songs where the lyrics simply serve as the prologue; they clearly serve their purpose, but they're just setting the epic greatness that comes when Cline can let loose (and Tweedy isn't slouching either.) It's the perfect jam for people who despise jam bands.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #41: The Man Comes Around by Johnny Cash

2009-11-22T00:34:00.010-05:00

The art of the fan-made music video montage is a practice I've never been able to wrap my head around. Search for virtually any well known song on YouTube, and more often than not you'll find multiple fan edited productions using that particular number. I'm not talking about those that create a concept and shoot their own video for a song (for example, this fan made Death Cab video was so impressive that it became the official video). I'm referring to the baffling practice of pairing a song with unrelated clips of television/movie/video game characters. Looking for a Wheatus/Gossip Girl production? Not anymore you're not! Is Lady Gaga more entertaining when simultaneously watching some clown play The Sims? Shockingly, no. Have you spent time wistfully pining, "If only I could combine the awfulness of Godsmack with the awfulness of the Saw franchise!" I'm delighted to inform you that your awful wish is granted. And to tell you to think of better wishes. (And as a bonus, it's a video camera recording of a TV playing Saw. The triple crown of failure!) ***

Yet the most perplexing array of fan videos I've seen thus far center around Johnny Cash's "The Man Comes Around."

Are you the type of person that finds yourself thinking, "Wow, 'The Man Comes Around' is great. It's hands down one of the best songs Johnny Cash wrote in the last thirty years of his life. But I can't help but think that I'd enjoy much more if I could listen to it while viewing a compilation of society's greatest atrocities throughout history." Well wonder no more, because people have heard your cries and responded accordingly. In fact, you've got around a dozen such videos to choose from in the first few pages alone.

Perhaps this shouldn't be surprising, as Cash's song is an apocalyptic masterpiece, heavily referencing the Book of Revelation and telling us all to collectively shut it down. That said, Cash is not standing on the street corner urging all to repent. He's lyrically pretty matter-of-fact for a guy serving as the tour guide on the Armageddon express. When you factor in the tempo, Cash is almost joyful about what's next to come. For a guy who has always represented an unorthodox sense of authenticity, this shouldn't come as a surprise. And I'm sure many of the YouTube uploaders were influenced by the presence of the song in the opening credits of the Dawn of the Dead remake, but Zack Snyder is a better editor than a kid with access to public-access war footage. When serving as a soundtrack for atomic bombs on Hiroshima, or the World Trade Center coming down, it all seems...let's say borderline inappropriate. And it's a tough transition going from this to "Cookie Monster sings Chocolate Rain."

This German fan tribute is kinda creepy, like a weekend video project with the "Sprockets" crew. But it features no explosions or war scenes, which I find shocking, with it being German and all.

***I found this video by trying to take a shot in the dark of the worst band/movie combo. This one popped to mind immediately. I was not surprised to find a result.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000's entry #95: Tonight's Not Alright by Plumtree

2009-11-21T00:00:00.002-05:00

The first cell phone I owned was a tiny Japanese model that is still lighter than all phones I've owned since. One of the ever-so-Japanese gadgety features was the ability to program customized ring tones via a simplistic Do-Re-Me interface. Needless to say, when you're a highly overpaid and underworked employee of the Japanese government you'll find time to tap out a ring tone or two.

Flash then to some evening at one of the gaijin bars with great names like Spoon, Mondo, Flower, or Wanted. Somewhere in the mix, and most likely on purpose, I played my pocket-sized ring tone for Catriona. She was flattered and the insider tidbit she offered made me glow with glee.

The 20-second snippet I'd chosen to recreate in electronic polyphony came from "Tonight's Not Alright" by Plumtree. Thanks to Catriona I had a copy of This Day Won't Last at All and had fallen in love with its entirety. But the heartbreaking walk down the fretboard at the 2:16 mark had been what hooked me.

Now people will and try and make suggestions,
and it only makes sense,
'cause they're having days like today,
where everything seems so crisp and clear,
crisp and clear,
crisp and clear,
crisp and
clear.

The twelve notes that intertwine with those closing words have had an immeasurable and unexplainable effect on me. This album became the soundtrack to my time in Japan, and those twelve notes the backbone of my ring tone, an homage to band I would never see live.

The cool part, the part I can articulate, is that after my debut of Casio-proud talent, Catriona told me that those few seconds were singer and guitarist Carla Gillis's favorite part of the album. It used to strike me as odd that artists could actually like (or dislike) different parts of their work, but finding out that through some cosmic coincidence I was in love with the same moment as someone else made feel fuzzy.

I still have that cell phone and its AC adapter. I used to show it to people who even in this age of smart phones were mesmerized by its wee-ness. The battery used to hold a charge, but would lose full power from time to time. Some time ago, I got it out, plugged it in and fired it up. Evidently the battery can't sit dormant too long because despite any hopes, all stored memory was gone.

I lost my ring tone, but in all honesty, I don't seem to mind.

Bad Idea Live Blog: Dayton vs Villanova

2009-11-20T14:18:00.000-05:00

<a href="http://www.coveritlive.com/mobile.php?option=com_mobile&task=viewaltcast&altcast_code=5593057077" >Bad Idea Live Blog: Dayton vs Villanova</a>

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #67: Ocean Breathes Salty by Modest Mouse

2009-11-20T02:34:00.000-05:00

Ocean Breathes Salty

Modest Mouse | MySpace Music Videos

BAD IDEA PROGRAMMING NOTE

Check back to the site around 3pm ET/2pm CT today for a software test run masquerading as a liveblog of the Dayton vs Villanova game in Puerto Rico. Hopefully some of the following questions may be answered:

Will Paul Williams again assume the role of the bespectacled lad in the above video, rescuing his flying friends from certain doom?
Will Marcus Johnson finally make a 3-pointer? Or will he continue to play like a broken-winged Isaac Brock?
Did Chris Wright leave all his athletic ability at the welcome celebration?
Will I use any close officiating call to continue bitching about Ireland getting screwed by France? (SPOILER ALERT: Yes.)

Be here. Aloha.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #5: Crazy by Gnarls Barkley

2009-11-19T00:30:00.004-05:00

This doesn't sound like a song someone wrote. It sounds like something found in a time capsule, years after it was systematically created in a lab, and now we are hearing something that contains no obvious influence of the society in which it was created. It comes from no discernible musical era, sounding like something that would seamlessly fit in with any genre of pop music that has existed within the last fifty years. Likewise it refuses to be pigeonholed into any particular genre. I mean the guy from Goodie Mob is singing over a spaghetti western sample, for God's sake. This is a song that I can't imagine ever aging, specifically because it appears to be without age. It just seems like something that has always been around, but we just didn't know about it.

Within the universal appeal of the song came a torrent of cover versions, from literally every part of the musical landscape. Could there possibly be any other song that would inspire versions from Shawn Colvin, Beyonce, and David Gilmour? And yet, somehow Gnarls Barkley outdid everyone else's take by repeatedly re-tooling the song themselves, coming up with a variety of variations on the original take. The Top of the Pops performance matches militaristic snares with flight crew uniforms. An offering on Later with Jools Holland pushes a shuffling guitar distortion to the forefront. The Star Wars version has Storm Troopers.

But this take from From the Basement is my personal favorite. It's clearly the sparsest and most restrained arrangement. Every note on the guitar seems to burst with the weight behind it, sounding like something you would hear under black-and-white film noir opening credits. Danger Mouse keeps the keys buried in the background, focusing all attention on Cee-Lo, whose vocals echo with equal parts gravity and overall spookiness. It's unfair how ridiculous the man's pipes are, and how easy he can belt it out.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #63: Wilco (the song) by Wilco

2009-11-18T00:30:00.064-05:00

So there's this band called Wilco. You probably have never heard of them, but don't worry. CBS Sunday Morning (aka my source for cutting-edge music reporting) will fill you in on a band that's been a well-kept secret, but might actually start getting some respect!

It's unclear at what point Wilco was first referred to as "America's answer to Radiohead," but since the term was first coined, it's been repeated thousands of times, including Greg Kot's band biography and Chuck Klosterman's Esquire profile of Jeff Tweedy. Surprisingly, Tweedy himself seems to have the best read on what the nonsensical comparison actually means:

"The label of 'American Radiohead' is critical shorthand for 'I don't know what to tell you its like, but trust me you'll like it'."

Self-awareness is not a trait usually associated with rock stars, but Tweedy is spot on with his analysis. That said, when examining the career paths of each band through their seven studio albums, parallels galore seem to be in play when examining how each has transitioned from one record to the next. Let's break it down!

Both bands debut with offerings that could most easily be classified as inauspicious. A.M. is by the number alt-country, and Pablo Honey sounds like an end-of-semester project from a student enrolled in "Early 90's modern rock 101." Neither album is bad, but based on the future output, both are relatively unremarkable. By the way, looking back, how fucking weird is it that Radiohead named an album after a Jerky Boys skit?

The second albums represent huge leaps forward in terms of potential as well as ambition. The best part of a tepid debut is the lack of any sophomore slump. There's not much in terms of stylistic evolution for either band on album #2, but the songwriting within the respective genres is leaps and bounds ahead of what each seemed capable of on their opening efforts. Bonus points for Wilco here, as most bands in their spot at the time would likely have whittled a double album down to one and saved some songs for the next album.

Album #3 is the game-changer album for each band. The one where you find yourself saying, "Holy shit! This band is swinging for the fences!" Both bands reinvent their sound to break out of the easily categorized mold that defined their earlier work. The band that wrote "Creep" bares little resemblance to the warped genius that produced "Paranoid Android." Likewise, anyone expecting a continued Gram Parsons vibe from Wilco would be in for a rude awakening by the time Tweedy is screaming "Something in my veins! Bloodier than blood!" while Jay Bennett goes crazy with the power of the synthesizer.

Album #4 is the "I thought the last album was good, but now I have no idea what on earth I'm even listening to!" album. Here's a fun trivia fact: In 2007, Radiohead would release an album on the internet! Maybe you heard about it? Or maybe you heard virtually every critic act like it had never been done before, while conveniently forgetting such a stunt was more or less exactly what Wilco did in 2000 after the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot rejection; they put it up on their website for free. If any decade-defining list does not contain both these albums in the top 10, then that particular list will wind up in my top 10 list for "Worst top 10 list ever." Got it?

Ok. So here's the one place where the parallel trajectories slightly part ways. Amnesiac wasn't exactly Kid B, but it continues the same push/pull alternation of warmth/alienation that Kid A established. This made it less surprising, but also a more accessible listen. Tweedy, now working without Bennett, apparently listened to a lot of Neil Young, Television, and the sounds of his own migraines to make A Ghost is Born. The ridiculously indulgent noise stunt of "Less Than You Think" seems like something Yorke and company would approve of.

Each band's 6th album seems to respectively be their weakest since the debuts. That said, this really only proves the strength of each catalog, since both Sky Blue Sky and Hail To the Thief are very good albums. But neither quite measures up with the reputation both bands had established for themselves as masters of classic albums. I have no idea how "The Thanks I Get" was cut from the original SBS album, but it bothers me to this day.

We reach present day with both bands putting out albums much better than their last offerings, and seeming secure in where their careers have taken them. Would In Rainbows or Wilco (the album) qualify as either band's best effort? Probably not, but both work perfectly as cohesively brilliant works, as well as summations of each band's career thus far. If you were introducing either band to someone who had never heard them, these would be the places to start.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #61: You Know You're Right by Nirvana

2009-11-17T02:35:00.002-05:00

I liked Nirvana in high school, but I liked them in an extremely casual way. I owned Nevermind and Incesticide but not Bleach nor In Utero. And of the two albums I owned, I never really listened to either all that much. I found the posthumous Unplugged interesting, but for reasons having very little to do with Nirvana, and more to do with the choice of covers within the setlist. Add in the fact that Kurt Cobain's suicide instantly blurred the line between actual talent and perceived lost potential to the point where said line ceased to exist, and I've never had much interest in the band's legacy.

That said, my iTunes playcount indicates that I've listened to the newly released Live at Reading album dozens of times in the last week. In fact, it's honestly the only thing I've felt like listening to, and I'm not sure why. What initially caught my attention was how great it sounds quality-wise, especially in comparison with the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah compilation. But the remastered audio is a very small component of the allure. It's actually pretty amazing to listen to all these songs back to back and realize that this is basically an unedited 80-minute snapshot of a band on what was the high point of their existence, perhaps down to the exact day of that peak: August 30, 1992. Most of the songs have been heard hundreds of times in the 17 years since, but something about the sequencing of hearing them one after another with no filler anywhere seems transcendant.

Also, they are playing fucking loud! It seems ridiculous this much noise can be made by only three people. Revisionist history has created the perception that Cobain was a terrible live guitar player, but that's really only true in regards to the last year or so of his life. To hear him playing at Reading, he is unhinged with boundless energy but always in control of the songs. It's in stark contrast to the guy who would require the services of Pat Smear a couple years later when he couldn't remember what chords to play. The same ferocity is there on Cobain's vocals. He's still at the point where he's snarling instead of whining, and tracks that I previously never thought twice about, like "Aneurysm" or "Negative Creep," sound like classics.

The canon of popular music is littered with defining moments that go down in history for the cultural significance that came to pass. Hendrix at Monterey. Dylan at Newport. The Beatles on Ed Sullivan. James Brown at the Apollo. Michael Jackson on Motown 25. The Ramones at CBGB. Of course, what these occasions all have in common is that they all happened a long time ago. It's not a stretch in the slightest to put Live at Reading alongside the list. It's obvious why it had been such a sought after bootleg since 1992, and whereas the Muddy Banks compilation still seems like a quick cash grab, Live at Reading feels like a piece of rock history, luckily preserved for the future.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #15: Hoppipolla by Sigur Ros

2009-11-16T02:59:00.001-05:00

A full in depth dissertation of Sigur Ros' evolution from sparse, glacial minimalists to dynamic, orchestral showstoppers is coming after the jump!

Of course I'm totally kidding. Do we want to discuss the epic scope of Icelandic ambient post-rock, or do we want to KEEP FREAKING OUT ABOUT THAT COLTS GAME?!? AAAAAAAHHHHHHH! I CAN'T STOP THE SCREAMING INSIDE MY HEAD!

This guy knows what I'm talking about.

Git 'er done indeed, good sir!

Of course, as we all know, screaming fat guys who love the Colts aren't limited to shouting in their own homes. They're also allowed to scream into microphones and lose their minds live via the radio! (The fun really kicks in around the 3:15 mark.)

And how about Bill Belichick. What a dick, right guys? Terrible offensive decisions aren't just for former Patriot coaches! Of course, with Belichick, it's never as simple as simply saying he made a dumb decision. Post-game analysts implied that Belichick refused to punt because he didn't believe in his defense, but this theory makes no sense, as his defense had forced two interceptions and played reasonably well. The truth is he didn't believe the Colts defense could stop him, and he wanted to rub that fact in. But now he looks like an idiot. And then that asshole security guard took down a cameraman! For shame!

He treated that cameraman like the guy was one of Tom Cable's exes.

The downside to this is that the inevitable "Can the Colts go undefeated?" chatter will get old very quick, but for now that's worth suffering through. Don't you agree Bob?

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #77: The Hardest Button to Button by The White Stripes

2009-11-14T10:00:00.001-05:00

Which White Stripes/Michel Gondry collaboration is the best? There is no wrong answer of course. "Fell in Love With a Girl" probably holds the most cultural significance, while "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" seems ahead of its time, considering that Gondry's trademark projection got much more recognition when he repeated it for an equally enjoyable Paul McCartney video five years later. "The Denial Twist" has a compelling concept but the manipulation gets distracting on repeat viewings. That said, it's hard to find fault or boredom with a single frame of "The Hardest Button to Button."

Much of the fun in watching Gondry's work is the "How did he do that?" factor. But there really is no "How did he do that?" factor is this video. He leaves his camera and perspective manipulations at home. There are no tricks for multiplying the drum kits/amps/mic stands. They simply added more of them. So instead of asking "How did he do that?" you find yourself thinking, "This must have taken FOREVER." And indeed it did: Three 16-hour days to shoot thousands of setups, many of which would last fractions of a second in the final product. It culminates with a perfect visual depiction of the rhythm and riffs that form the basis of The White Stripes. At this point of technological growth, it seems almost bizarre to see something like this shot on real backgrounds when it could have been shot in one day on green screen. But the setting here provides an extra layer of fascination, watching the shadows adjust, watching spots where Meg hides in the background, or noticing the military precision with which Jack has a consistent walk down stairs. The panorama under the tunnel at the climax still seems dizzying after hundreds of views. Toss in a quick cameo from Beck and his box, and it's another example of how Gondry can take a relatively simple (if overly ambitious) initial idea, but have the dedication to execute that concept without shortcuts, knowing that every element of the grind shows up on screen in the final product.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #87: 1234 by Feist

2009-11-12T00:00:00.099-05:00

Tuesday was Sesame Street's 40th anniversary. Naturally this post would have more sense on Tuesday, but planning ahead has never been my strong suit. Nevertheless, I present 10 classic Sesame Street musical moments after the jump.

1234 by Feist

This seems like it was probably particularly fun director and shooter. They probably don't get a lot of opportunities to bring the camera crane out on normal street scenes when some adult is just whining about sharing. That said, it was probably a huge pain in the ass for the puppeteers, who rarely have to get their shit together for one-take shots.

ABC Song by Tilly and the Wall

Maybe it's just me, but these girls seem to be flaunting the whole "stomp your feet" shtick RIGHT IN FRONT of the girl in the wheelchair. Sorry you can't walk kid, but will you still sing it with me?

See the Signs by Chris Brown

I'm not the type of person to ever justify domestic violence, but if I were, this is where I would say, "It shoulda been you, Elmo."

Yo Yo Ma and the Honkers

Holy shit! Did you see Big Bird shove Bob? Animal on human violence is no joke, Big Bird! Chris Brown learned it by watching you!

Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard by Paul Simon

Will somebody shut that kid up! Good Lord Almighty! Where's Big Bird when actually you need him to beat someone's ass?

Superstition by Stevie Wonder

The most amazing thing about this clip is actually seeing a musical act get seven minutes to play on television. Of course, this was still in the early phases of the show's existence, so maybe they were just giving the crew a break. Check out the kid losing his shit on the fire escape!

I Got a Song by Ray Charles

Who knew Bert was a leftie? Although I don't really hear much guitar in the actual song, so really I guess that just makes Bert a left-handed fraud. Ernie, on the other hand, is obviously a legit drummer. Also, did Bert always laugh like a goat? I was always so used to him being a miserable dick, so maybe I just never noticed his actual guffaws.

Hold My Hand by Hootie and the Blowfish

Take it away YouTube commenters!

Nasty Dan by Johnny Cash

Two points from the Muppet Wiki:
1. The Muppet Wiki is something that exists!
2. The Muppet Wiki reports that Johnny Cash appeared on Sesame Street four different times. That has to be a record among recovered drug addicts.

Furry Happy Monsters by R.E.M.

Somehow the worst R.E.M. song ever recorded becomes a classic. And all it takes is a Kate Pierson-ified Muppet and a cast of monsters that have mastered the art of wild mood swings. I love how earnestly sincere Stipe is during his mid-song chat with the monsters. It's a demeanor that reminds me of Uncle Andy's Funhouse with its lack of pretense.