A tasty visual guide to

Torchwood – Meat ( 2008 )

What’s this? PETA’s episode? Where’s the nekkid chicks saying they rather be nekkid than wear fur? And more importantly… where can I meet them?

Did they took a cue from Robert Holmes‘ school of subtlety? Where’s the “healthy vegetarian diet quip“?

So it starts with Rhys, driving la vida loca in Cardiff when suddenly… BANGOROONIO!!! he runs over some idiot with a fetish for taking pics of people’s shoes.

Anyhow, no more than a welsh swallow flight away, one of Rhys’s employees gets himself topped in a car crash (no, he doesn’t go to 1973), so Rhys goes Scooby Doo. Gwen thinks Rhys’s into it. Hilarity ensues.

Actually, no, what follows is a quite cool but non too subtle episode of Torchwood. The message that eating meat is bad is soooooo drilled on your consciousness that you might get put off of eating it for a while (5 minutes, my time).

A few domestic rows and suspicious looks between Gwen and Jack later, Rhys comes to save the day with a kinda cool plan to infiltrate the place where the special “meat” comes from. Turns out it’s the body of a living alien, which regenerates meat that it’s cut down from it.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!

Anyhoo, Ianto is quip-tastic, kicks a lot of bottoms and saves the day. There’s a lot of “crying towel” moments for all you veggies, vegans and weak nancy boys (like meself) to shed a tear and feel bad about that kebab you just had.

I really dug this episode, it has a point to make (even if it’s a bit too heavy handed) but the cool humour, nice action bits and a fantastic pace from director Colin Teague (who also directed the fantastic Torchwood episode Sleeper) and a script by the always reliable writer Catherine Tregenna.

Random thoughts:

-Oh no, another row?

-Geeze…. Gwen is a real b1tch.

-C’mon, Rhys, you deserve better!

-You cheating harpy!

-Owen… meet my boyfriend. Boyfriend, meet the dude I was fooling you with.

-Meat is murder.

-Did Morrissey wrote this?

-Yes, aliens, get over it, ok?

-Aw, c’mon, Owen, don’t shoot Tosh down like that. You could use the shag! (God knows she needs one)

-STOP IT WITH THE “MEAT IS BAD!!!” STUFF! I’m gonna eat THREE carl jrs burgers and then drop dead from clogged arteries after this!

-”We could release a single!” –> IANTO OWNS!!

-”Did I show off” ; “Just a bit!”

-Whoa….Jack… back off!

-”Listen to Ahab!”

-C’mon, Owen, she made you sandwiches…at least buy her a Strongbow and a kebab…

-What’s with the sandwiches?

-Kick their arses, Ianto!

-Who the fekk has a syringe that big?

-OMFG…Jack is a drug pusher!!! SHAME ON YOU! This is a kid’s show!

When it ends you say to yourself: If Ianto led this place, they would be effective.

“Aww, poor Rhys!”

“Gwen, you are a b1tch, sisssteer!”

Times you thought to yourself: hey, it might be something good!

…out of which IT DELIVERS!

Cap Jack’s campy moments (in the dozens)

“Whoa, Ianto could kick Jack Bauer’s arse!!”

Yeah, we get it…meat is murder… rock n roll, deal with it…

Good Ianto jokes

Cap’n Jack is a flirty bastidd!!

Bad sex jokes

Overshots of Beautiful Cardiff

Cap’n Jack’s crying towel moments

Crying towel moments for the rest of the cast

FrillyRating:

Russell T. Davies, our MAN IN CARDIFF! says:

“C’mon, Frilly, you know meat is murder… YOU ARE AN UNFIT PARENT! And you are still a virgin living in your parents basement!”

It never gets old, but you do

Whoa, another week, another wrinkle, another ailment… going old sucks the big one, innit?

Anyhoo, it’s Frilly’s and Noisy’s b-day this weekend (be nice and say hi or summat)… in the meantime, here’s a happy birthday for you, Frilly:

Y’see, Frilly? THERE’S NO HOPE FOR YOU! VIRGIN!!!

but i digress:

Whereas Noisy, with his weird taste in women, gets this from me:

Mind you, she looks better chubby and goth and everything. I would, mate, but, i’m saving myself for Lisa Loeb….

Enjoy your b-days, dudes, and do mind that I shouldn’t drink that much, but will anyways… in the meantime, be sure your cake does not contain…ANY NUTS!!

…and I hope your birthday bashes…DELIVER!

Silverfish #1

New section: book reviews!

The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks ( 1984 )

So, it’s about?

A seriously disturbed youngster, his perspective on life and a bunch of disturbing rituals.

The edited highlights?

Frank lives on an island with his dad, in good old Scotland. Frank doesn’t do anything, just goes around the island, roaming and doing ritualistic stuff to little fluffy animals. His brother has just escaped from the loony bin and calls from time to time, taunting Frank.

Life’s little mysteries fascinate Frank, who forms a set of beliefs (maybe a sort of religion?) to sort of explain events and has a set of amusing rituals (not very nice for the faint of heart) to justify his actions or understand why life is a bit stuffy from time to time.

Frank’s relationship with his father is a bit strange: they kind of respect each other and try to outwit themselves. Even if his a bit distant with Frank, you can feel he does care for him. When he’s not killing animals or doing bizarre stuff, Frank goes to town to buy supplies for his experiments and go binge drinking with his only friend, a dwarf called Jaime.

As the novel progresses, Frank speaks to us (in a very disturbing but funny way) how he killed 3 people. A tiny parallel between these murders, Frank’s rituals and the way society defines us seeps around, gelling together for twisty (and nasty) finale.

Is there a movie version?

No studio would let this one go into celluloid. They’d be crucified!

Anything else?

Yeah, I’m gonna rant

I bought this book out of a recommendation from a rag I read in England (Hot Dog magazine…you’ll be missed). It was a bit of morbid interest and I’ve already read a book by this author, Feersum Endjinn (under  his other pen name, Iain M. Banks), so I gave it a shot.

It’s really disturbing, but it’s sort of a dark comedy. The animal cruelty is very taxing on the reader, mind you, but then again, you are not supposed to sympathize with Frank (until the final twist, I guess). Some of the worst parts are lightened up with some situational humour and dark jokes that just make you laugh out loud.

I’ve read it twice, maybe to make up my mind if I really dug it or not, and to finally “get” what’s it all about. My take: it’s a book about society. How a person resorts to strange rituals (the wasp factory from the title) to understand life’s little mysteries, how your personality gets shaped by an authority figure (the father on this book) and how you shouldn’t judge someone until you’ve really known them. This applies specially at the protagonist, whom you think you got figured out by page 50 (give or take a few killings) but then come those last pages and you can imagine a little M. Night Shyamalan popping out and saying “WHAT A TWIIIIST!!!”.

If you have a weak stomach or just don’t want something too macabre/grand guignol-esque, skip this one. If you are up for a no holds-barred criticism of society, religion and the inherent mean spirit we all carry around, give it a go. It’s a good (and yucky) read.

Tell us your sources, you idjit!

The book, of course! For a second opinion, check:

http://www.scwu.com/bookreviews/h/BanksIainWaspFactoryThe.shtml

http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Academy/6422/rev1153.html

http://speculativereviews.blogspot.com/2006/04/wasp-factory-iain-banks.html

http://www.iain-banks.net/fiction/the-wasp-factory/

A bit more about the author:

Official site

Wiki

An excerpt:

Click here!

A daughter’s visual guide to

Doctor Who – The Doctor’s Daughter ( 2008 )

Someone’s taking the mick around here? Really. That’s it?? There was a lot of hoopla about this episode and I guess that maybe my expectations were a bit high-ish, but… it was really underwhelming.

Tennant seemed to be a little on “automatic” on previous episodes and it felt like today was going to be another one. I was thankfully wrong at the end, but it was hanging precariously between “good acting” and “diabolical acting”.

The story promised a lot, but you can’t change the status quo of a show that much, is it? I’m hoping that this episode will be linked to something else in the ending, just like last year’s Lazarus Experiment (written by the same geezer, hmmm). It’s not that good, but it isn’t a mess like you would be led to believe.

…so, the plot?

Silly Doc Ten, Lauren a Silly PoFaced Bint Assistant arrive into nondescript quarry planet where he gets cloned and wouldn’t you know it? The clone comes out with perfect fitting clothes, make up and snarky dialogue, stolen from Joss Whedon’s scripts!

So, a lot of time and gurns after, Silly PoFaced Bint Assistant gets herself Marthanapped by some fish (wonder if they are related to the one in Torchwood?). It turns out that the planet has an inhospitable atmosphere (is it Villahermosa?) so exposure to the atmosphere can be deadly. Why do I mention this? No idea and I dun a poo why it’s even mentioned, except for padding reasons.

Which brings me to my main problem… why in the name of Terry Nation do you pad a story that hardly needs padding, that has enough emotional power that you can stretch?! Do they mention that she’s a clone of the last living Timelord? Nah, let’s go for a weepy travel through a badly lit marsh, just like, i dunno, an old overpadded episode that makes no sense! Yeah, we got 45 minutes to wrap up this story and instead of going for the “emotional journey” with the Doctor and his “daughter”, we get the MOST STUPID FISH IN THE WORLD… swim, you flippin’ idiot!

It gets a bit better by the end, though, even if it veers directly into the “oh, no… spin off!!!” territory with a twee afterthought.

Random thoughts:

-It’s the pimple teen from the simpsons!
-Buffy ?
-It’s the fish from Torchwood?
-Good moments with nice chats!
-This is like Fenric Flirting?
-Quarries! Quarries!
-NO! NOT THE MOUSE! WERE THE FCUK IS PETA?!?!
-The rifles shoot zippo lighters, AHOOGAH!
-She goes Sarah Jane on us!
-That fish has more personality than Martha.
-Hey she surived walking the earth. Heck if she survived the space equivalent of Villahermosa, she’ll survive everything!
-I really really really hope she doesn’t fly like her dad!

And now…THE RATINGS!

Silly companion moments

Proof that McCoy is the father too

“Yo, where’s Sarah Michelle Gellar?”

Stupid military moments

Moments you ask yourself “Why is Martha in this again?”

Instances you mutter to yourself that famous Marlon Brando phrase from On the waterfront…

Moments you go “padding on a 45 minute episode? geeeeeze!”

“Wow…she’s really cute!”

Feepo Moments

Times the thought of ” SPIN OFF!!! ” whirls in your head

“Crying towel” bits

Times you remember her father is a bastidd so tough that managed to survive a crash landing, go into some fekkin’ cave, fool a Lava Monster and save her best friend (all of this while under the influence of a deadly poison) and you just say to yourself “boy, she’s high maintenance!”

Frillyrating:

RTD says:

“Frilly, you are a silly straight living with your parents. YOU ARE NOT IN TOUCH WITH YOUR EMOTIONS!! This delivers!!”

Silly Captions!

“Ah! It’s Jeff Goldblum!”

Click here to see who plays this character…

Doctor:”For the last time, I’m NOT calling you Buffy!”

Donna: (thinking) “sigh…gotta call my agent!”

“No, really, I bought it at Tesco”

Heartbroken, David Tennant sees the plot for the next episodes and thinks “I shoulda stayed in Harry Potter…”

Remove the inside

I usually love cold weather. Yes I do.

But it’s getting ridiculous. Absolutely ludicrous! It’s quite rare that I have to use a heavy, warm and fuzzy jacket, but if you are looking for a sight, today’s the day.

If I were using one, though, but I’m not and I’m feeling a bit popsicled. Add to that a dash of confusion, a splash of disorientation and that parched feeling you get when you do a lot of exercise and don’t drink any liquids for a while.

Now, I swear this is not making sense, but I just woke up in a public bench. I have no idea where I am, but people walking near me try not to stare, but do it anyways, be it by a quick double take or by a sideway glance.

Is it my black grooved Nike t-shirt? I know it’s not good karma to wear Nike, but it was a gift, sorry, you holier-than-thou bastids!

Oh, I see that everyone is wearing warm coats (some accessorize with nifty hats) and I’m only with a t-shirt and some dark blue denims. The sky is clear, but it’s very chilly. I don’t feel any warmth from the sun and I might as well start walking to get some sort of rise on body temperature, quick snap.
The more I walk, the easier it’s to ignore the stares and pointing of fingers. C’mon, little runts, haven’t you seen a Polar Bear Club enthusiast before?
Then again, they might not be amused to see me on my swimming trunks, so fair’s fair.
You know? The more I walk around, the warmer I feel. It’s that funny fuzzy feeling of comfort, like the moment when you drop your warm clothes, feel the cold and then scramble to the comfort of your duvet. That feeling that blood is rushing again all around. Take that, hypothermia! Alf lives again!

As I keep walking, I have this strange suspicion that I have been here before. It’s definitely not Mexico, since everything is in English (or a variation of) and people are playing that British national sport, shopping and yakking at the mobile.
Which is a sport that is played in most countries all around, really.

But I am not going to go on another anticonsumerism rant (since Space Hijackers do a much better job than me) and better focus on the urgent stuff.
Like getting some nosh. I’m absolutely starving. And I really feel parched. Like I haven’t had anything to drink in ages.

Now, there’s a sign in front to me. To the left, a place called Pallasades. To my right, something called Bullring and a NEC centre. I’m right handed, so I go left, just to right any wrong done to the left in decision makings.

Make of that what you will.

Anyways, as I approached the place called Pallasades, I saw signs of a train station, called New Street. I still have no idea of where I am, but the creeping feeling of déjà vu has already become an uninvited guest that outstays its welcome.

The entry of the place is heavily adorned with little cascade lights. You know which ones, don’t you? Those that look like hanging icicles. Everything is illuminated, in bright tones. It’s so shiny, so peaceful, that I forget that I’m lost, cold and surrounded by people with too many shopping bags in each hand. Some of the shiny LED stalactites have a blue star (made of LEDs too) on its center.
Must be Christmas shopping season. I have a keen sense, dig? That gave it away. Oh, also the dudes dressed as Santa, the little German-style markets (with model houses) and a group of cheery lassies singing their hearts out.
A Salvation Army lady is near me and I accidentally drop a ten peso coin. It was a reflex, really, no mean act was intended. I feel embarrassed but no way am I going to go back and ask for my ten pesos.

Oh dear, now I realize that I don’t have any money! What the hell am I supossed to do? I don’t know anyone and my singing is a little rusty, so I’m pretty done for. A quick wallet check? Yup, I carry my international credit card. Trusty old mate, that keeps me all year in debt, lying peacefully in the bottom of the wallet, besides a Virgin of Guadalupe stamp and a membership for Dave and Busters.

But I digress. I’m trying to be near a wall but the mass of people moving is astounding. Really feeling warm by now, no problems and…yeouch!!!
A gust of polar wind stabs me in the back! I recoil in pain! Sod it! Piss! A back spasm! I’ve always an affinity to get back spasms with cold weather. I stagger around, feeling a thousand pins of pain in my upper back and lower stomach. Some people are genuinely worried and are asking me if I need help. I really don’t want to interrupt their shopping or the lovely frozen day they are spending with their loved ones.
“Cramps” I explain through gritted teeth.
I try to assure people that I am okay and they leave me be. God bless them.
“Chop chop, Alf, keep moving, stay warm and it will all go away”. I follow those thoughts and maybe it starts to work.

Between the pain, the magnificent illumination and the cold, I realize that I’m already inside a shopping centre, called Pallasades. It’s even warmer and nicer in here. Very cozy indeed. I still feel pain and put my back to a wall, grabbing hard, long breaths of warm air, just to see if the cramps and spasms go away. It seems to be working.

Some time passes, the people are still on their capitalistic communion and I’m just looking around. My wandering eyes stop dead on their tracks when I spot someone, all the way to my right. She can’t see me, but I see her, clear as day. She doesn’t need any lights to look shiny and warm in this place: she already is a guiding beacon in this sea of flesh and woolly hats.

The long wavy black hair, half combed but not neatly nor overdone, parted right at the middle. The pink open cardigan, never too warm nor too light. I can’t see it, but I know there’s a ring with a red heart in a silver frame adorning one of her fingers. She’s there, looking so perfect, so happy and so alive, that my pains go away.

I try moving towards her, but simply can’t make me legs move. I obtain movement after promising my aching body some well deserved endorphins that will be obtained with a hug. Well, I’m not actually moving, more like a stumbling motion, but no worries, should fit in like a binge drinker. She hasn’t noticed me and a surprise “wotcha?” would be fantastic in these conditions. I won’t even try to yell, especially since the cacophony of a thousand shopping voices would drown my little insignificant voice. Y’know, the squeaky voice you get when you see a person you really like like, not just a crush, dig?
Is it me or are the lights growing more and more white? It’s like they have a life of their own. Feels like slow motion, and in that speed is how I see how her lips start to crease upwards, her eyes become a little smaller and her arms start to rise. She moves from her starting position, near a supporting beam, and moves forward.

Not towards me, mind you. She just hugs a guy and kisses him, with a passion I never seen her display before. I decide to stop and rest again the wall, using the motion to straighten my back a bit. A little crack, there it goes, almost good as new. Another surge of pain goes on my back, but is not as heavy or hurting as the one I feel in my soul right now.

I’m an incurable romantic. Sue me.

She’s in the arms of another man. Not a dream, a reality. I thought no other pain would equal it (mind you, these cramps are vying for the first place). She smiles at the geezer, with a serving of a nice blue stare. Those blue eyes that shine like halogen lights on a dark desert road. Such a gaze could make you go for the least romantic simile you could think of. He smiles back, starts to hug her again and they both kiss. That kiss takes for a long while and I’m watching, mouth agape and without any exit strategy to speak of.
“Life goes round and round, luv” says a petite old lady that has sneaked and now is standing by my side. “Let it go and come back on another round”.

She hand me a gingerbread man and she goes away, disappearing on the crowd. The gingerbread man is half-wrapped on a paper that reads “Greggs”. Not bad, not bad at all. Chewing the humanoid cookie distracts me for a mo, and when I raise my sight, she’s looking me. Not on my general direction, but straight into me, into my soul, do not pass go, do not collect 200 pounds.

She sees me and I half smile at her, but the longing in my eyes just tattles on me. I decide to make myself scarce, losing myself on the crowd. She still has her eyes on me, and I feel now so alone, in this crowded shopping centre.

I’m retreating, walking backwards, looking back at her
The loneliest man on the crowd looking at the best accompanied man on the crowd.

(this is an extract of a book i’m working on. for more inquiries, feel free to comment or drop me a line).

CRÓNICAS HOMORODIANAS Volumen 2

(presentando algunos viejitos pero buenitos, articulos memorables de estos colaboradores- FSC)

Patitas para que las quiero RECORDS presenta:

¿Como los buenos vinos u “oldies but goodies”? – Los regresos de Tool y Pearl Jam

Acabo de terminar de enmarcar y colgar las 7 litografías de Alex Grey que me venían incluidas en su colección de libros “VISIONS”, una excelente recopilación retrospectiva de su trabajo, que lo ha definido como uno de los artistas visionarios plásticos de mayor relevancia en el orbe. Y que bonitos se ven. Colgados en escalera sobre mi escalera. Ah si, eso me recuerda que mi objetivo de esta noche es compartir mis experiencias sensoriales a raíz de dos de los regresos más esperados de la escena del rock en los últimos años: Tool (con sus diez mil días) y Pearl Jam (con su monografía homónima del aguacate Hass)

Resultó que para mi buena fortuna, ambas bandas se acaban de presentar en Detroit, y más rápido que una liebre de seis patas me hice de mis boletos para ambos conciertos tan pronto salieron a la venta. De la misma forma me hice de mis copias de los dos nuevos discos el mismísimo día que salieron a la venta (lo de “mismísimo” es porque salieron a la venta el “mismísimo” día ambos, el 2 de mayo del año en curso del calendario Gragrofiano)

Comencemos con Tool.

El regreso oficial ocurrió en el Festival de Coachella de este año (gracias Edu por no verlos). El título del nuevo disco: “10 000 days”. La espera de 6 años, valió la pena. El arte de Alex Grey, disfrutable en 3ra dimensión por medio de unos singulares gogles que te hacen hacer bizcos es genial. Ciertamente suena como una continuación de su anterior álbum “Lateralus”, pero con una voz de Maynard James Keenan más melódica, más estudiada, no en balde ha pasado el tiempo al lado de Billy Howerdel y su Círculo Perfecto. Las canciones son largas, oscuras, difícilmente digeribles a la primera escucha, a veces el ritmo es imposible de seguir con el puro “piecito” (“Jambi” o “Rosetta Stoned” por ejemplo), pero una vez que se le agarra sabor, se niega a salir del reproductor de CD’s, sea cual sea su formato: carro, computadora, stereo, se queda ahí y se disfruta amplio. Pero la experiencia máxima fue en vivo. Verlos en el State Theatre del centro de Detroit, un lugar de por si místico y surrealista, algo así como “el teatro Metropolitan conoce el LSD”. Interpretaron piezas selectas de todos sus álbumes, ejecutadas con maestría, precisión y con un Maynard que venía un poco corto de sus facultades vocales. Eso fue hace una semana, el 15 de mayo del año en curso, según el calendario Gragrifiano.

A diferencia de giras pasadas, esta vez la banda se comunica más con el público, tomando una actitud a veces “rockstar”, situación que en lo particular me causo extrañeza. Es decir, es difícil ser participe de una interpretación de “Stinkfist” viendo a Maynard James Keenan vestido con jeans y sombrero de cowboy (y dando patadas al aire como si estuviera montando a caballo). Pero dejando a un lado esa parte, las canciones nuevas suenan estrepitosamente bien en vivo. Y ni que decir de clásicos como “46 & 2″ y “Aenima” que suenan tan frescos y dramáticamente poderosos, como en aquellas tardes de estudio para los exámenes finales de Mecánica de Materiales.

Conclusión. La corona del Art Rock ha sido reclamada por sus legítimos dueños. Tool vuelve a dejarnos satisfechos y hambrientos al mismo tiempo y se les agradece. ¡Ohhh Dios como se les agradece! (Una gira a mayor escala se espera para este verano en los Estados Unidos).

Vayamos ahora a Pearl Jam con su Pearl Jam

El sencillo “World Wide Suicide” es muy bueno. “Do the Evolution Part. 2″diríamos algunos. Lamentablemente, no puedo expresarme igual del álbum completo. Algo no ha terminado de cuajar bien desde su “Binaural”, inclusive, recuerdo que su anterior material “Riot Act” lo acabe vendiendo en el Chopo. Muchos críticos dicen que este nuevo álbum (el del aguacate…..uhmmmm aguacate!!….) es lo mejor que ha producido la banda desde su épico clásico inigualable “Vitalogy”. Nuevamente, no puedo concordar con esa aseveración. No porque “Comatose” sea un fusil de acordes y ritmo de “Spin the Black Circle”, significa que los 2 discos en general tengan paralelismos que los hagan igual de buenos. Pero bueno, eso tal vez ya es cuestión del oído de cada quien. Vayamos a la crónica del concierto (22 de mayo del año en curso según el calendario Gragrofiano)

El recital fue celebrado en el Palace of Auburn Hills, el estadio donde los Pistones de Detroit hoy están jugando contra los Miami Heat. Un lugar de muy buena acústica y visibilidad. La banda abridora fue My Morning Jacket, quienes se aventaron 45 minutos energéticos hasta cierto punto experimentales y sin inhibiciones. Buen sabor de boca. Después vendría el plato fuerte de la noche, que me haría y me sigue haciendo reflexionar sobre mi condición de 26añero. Bien dicen por ahí que no es lo mismo “Los Tres Mosqueteros” que “20 años después” (aunque en este caso son mas bien como 12 años……12 AÑOSSSS desde “Vitalogy” SANTA CACHUCHA!!!)

Y lo digo por lo siguiente: escenografía con rayos láser y luces robotizadas, señoras de entre 50 y 60 años que se sabían palabra por palabra la letra de TODAS las canciones, un Jeff Ament que no uso ningún tipo de sombrero, interpretaciones un tanto “standard”…..un tanto “pan con lo mismo” , yo leyendo “100 años de soledad” de García Marquez en el intermedio entre la banda abridora y la principal y una “Yellow Led Better” que se transformó al final en el “Star Spangled Banner”…….me hicieron reflexionar “¿en verdad estoy en un concierto de Pearl Jam?, ¿en verdad llevan dos horas y media tocando y ya quiero que se acabe?, ¿será que venir solo a los conciertos cada vez es menos divertido?, ¿Será que me quedé con la imagen de un par de excelentes shows en la Ciudad de México hace tres años donde todo era emoción pura (que es lo mismo que “pura emoción” dijera el Prof. Ponciano)? ¿O será que simplemente me estoy haciendo viejo? ¿Si es así, porque esa señora que bien podría ser mi Tía Abuela canta y grita “Eddie, Eddie!” y yo no?

O tal vez simplemente estoy siendo muy melodramático.

En realidad hubo momentos sublimes en el concierto, como cuando tocaron “Garden” , “Porch”, “Nothingman” y “Whipping”. Las rolas del nuevo disco suenan mucho mejor en vivo que en el disco. Vedder, como ya es costumbre se la paso bebiendo vino a lo largo de la noche, y cantando con una calidad vocal envidiable. Digo, no por nada son Pearl Jam, la banda que rescató el rock cuando aquel ensueño conocido como “grunge” decidió pasar a mejor vida.

Sin embargo…..….algo no cuaja desde “Binaural”……algo no cuaja……

HOMO RODANS

“la palabra perro no muerde”

Que demonios quisieron decir – 1

(Intro del editor:

En esta sección, llamada deliciosamente ¿Qué demonios quisieron decir?, analizamos los más grandes éxitos con letras que definitivamente no tenemos ni suripanta idea que signifiquen. Como aquí somos medio malinchistas y aparte valemonjistas, los comentarios están en español e inglés, asi que si no les gusta, pues…usen el traductor de Babelfish, nooooo?

Como NADIE me mande su foto, les asigné iconitos jocosos de Doctor Who.

love and kisses to your nice looking girlfriends- frilly.)

¿Qué demonios quisieron decir?

Volumen 1: White Town – Your Woman

Ahome:

From: LirSan
To: Whoever sings that.

No, you can´t ever be his woman, in fact, you can´t ever be A WOMAN, YOU’RE A MAN. Get that and you’ll be fine….. aaaaaaaaaand, can you or someone tell me what´s Marx got to do in the middle of a tormentous relationship??????????????????

???????  did you have trouble with the dinner-and-gifts fund???????

Homo Rodans:

Podria haberlo investigado en Wikipedia, o algun otro recurso de la Information Super-Highway. Pero prefiero quedarme con la duda para beneficio de este comentario: es una mujer la cantante de White Town la que dice I COULD NEVER BE YOUR WOMAN? o es un hombre con voz de pitillo? En ambos casos, siempre me he imaginado que es alguien de raza afroamericana usando un despliegue vulgar de maquillaje.

Aun lo recuerdo. La primera vez que la escuche pense “demonios, finalmente alguien tuvo la brillante idea de convertir la Marcha Imperial en un jingle de productos Danone”, pero no, fue algo peor, alguien que ni siquiera sabia que existia la Marcha Imperial se encontro por casualidad con las exactas mismas notas y las convirtio en un one hit wonder de verano.

Mi editor me pide que analice la letra de dicha monstruosidad del pop. Y lo hago. Y me encuentro con que aparentemente trata sobre los quejidos amargos de una mujer despechada ante un hombre lindo que no la cree a ella lo suficientemente linda como para ser su WOMAN. Sera acaso un paralelismo entre Anakin y el Consejo Jedi cuando lo rechazaron multiples veces para formar parte del mismo? Sera acaso un metafora disfrazada del porque los Jedis son celibes? Sera acaso que R2 D2 era el interes romantico de Threepio (Threepia??) al cual rechazo siempre con frases monosilabicas-montonicas. Si duda de estas teorias, solo lea la estrofa siguiente:

Now I know your heart, I know your mind (poderes mentales Jedi!)
You don’t even know you’re being unkind
So much for how your highbrow Marxist ways
Just use me up and then you walk away
Boy you can’t play me that way

(Al final de esta nota cedi a la tentacion y me encontre con que White Town es el proyecto de un solo hombre, hindu, ex-marxista, que vive en Inglaterra, llamado Jyoti Mishra…..so, I guess I was totally wrong about the voice-look match!)

NoisyBishop:

¡Ah caray… de esa ya ni me quería acordar! El video era medio jocoso (pero luego lo confundía con el de Lucas with the lid off de, este, Lucas) y me recordaba las calles extrañas de Polonia, República Checa y Hungría que había visitado ese verano y (EDITADO POR PECAR DE NAVELGAZING. STAY ON TOPIC, TOSSER!- Frill)…. pero bueno, me estoy desviando del tema. Por lo que entiendo del video, es simplemente sobre los roles que tenemos en las relaciones. Si consideramos que el cantante toma que es “la mujer” de la relación, lo esta tomando que él es el abnegado, el que se dejó abatir.

¿Machista? Claro, pero eso fue lo que entendí. Queda más claro en el video: ella esta corre y corre cuando el chavo da el balazo de entrada, se “conocen”, se la lleva a su depa “iiuuuuu!”, la hipnotiza, le quita su “corazón”, pasan por el letrero de “Expectation” y el de “Independence”…híjole, más sutil, ¿no?

Pasa la pérfida, cataplum, problemas. La “chica buena” se embaraza mientras su patético esperpento se va con la movida chueca y pues tiene al bebé y se escapa.

¿La moraleja del video y de la rola? No se dejen.

imightbeelvis:

Dude… just… dude… Thank God the 90’s are very, very far away. It’s as pretentious as some art school video and just as boring. A few questions:

-Do I need a bong to understand this?

-What city is that? Can I go on vacation there and see random people being roped around, Rodeo-style?

-The girl with the baby, quite fit, i would, you know? Can you give me anymore visual aids about her, just to corroborate my idea?

-Is that a real trumpet, a sample or just some crap in a computer? I dig it.

-Yo, NoisyBishop, weren’t you sedated and operated the first time you saw this video?

-Ahome is right: don’t mix communism/socialism/bearded idiots with relationships. It will end in tears, don’t you agree?

Give me Adam and the Ants any days.

FrillyShirtCyberman:

Holy Samurai Pizza Cat watchin’ Jebus!!! To think I bought THAT album. I deserve to hear Kelly Clarkson wailing “SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINCE YOUUU BEEEEN GOOOOONEEEE!” at least for a week. Crap, I think I like that song too. And her. I would, you know? Specially on her “lookit! I’m goth!”. Ah, chubby goth girls, something i can dig, dig?

Anyways, I read all the previous statements by my fellow ranters and I understand something: LAY DOWN THE SUGAR, YOU CRAZY DUDES (and dudette). I haven’t seen so many outta here ideas since my aunt in Tampico decided to steal an ambulance and chase some chavs that were kicking a little cat!

Back on track: okay, I get it that’s it’s a bit about an abusive relationship. But I don’t think it’s the girl making the guy the “battered wife”, but it feels more like the guy singing is what the Battered Wife is thinking at the moment. She’s singing it to the dude with the gun (the guy who cheats on her). So when she says “i can never be your woman”, she means just that: I can’t be with you, I’m taking the baby, have fun with your hand.

End. Of.

By the way, my fekkin’ favourite moment on the video? At the 3:13 mark it just needs a “GET OVEEEER HERE, YOU CNUT!”. You teach the cheating bastard, girl!

Next week… HOOBASTANK!!!!

PS: Guess what? Somebody else commented on this song:

Russel T. Davies – Writer of Who Extraordinaire:

White Town? IT DELIVERS!

Potter Panto and the guignol of puppets

Ah, I have a love and hate relationship with Harry Potter: I hate anything to do with the lightning-tattooed one, but love the girls obsessed with him.

By the by, here’s a sneak peek at the next movie… the budget is a little lower, though…

Hope you liked it.. hey, at least it’s not another Bladder Buster Blockbuster (TM) like the ones before!!! Heck, there’s less whining and the pace is certainly quicker than the last 5 megamassive wastes of celluloid.

“What does this tosser likes that it’s soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much better than Potter” asketh thou?? Well… obviously:

What’s that you say? More silly videos? Let’s bid adieu to all you at home with this comedy classic from Top Gear:

Take that, Darth Vader!!!

There will be visual guides

Torchwood – To the last man ( 2008 )

It’s the Tosh-centric episode of the series…and…it’s not a bunch of old tosh!

It starts with one fine cold-opening, leaving you with the sensation that’s it’s going to be another in media res beginning (very Palahniuk, if you ask me). Yup, a “few hours earlier” caption and it’s off we go. It all starts with a cool moment at Tosh’s place and….whoa, someone’s had plastic surgery!

Anyhoo, hormonal moments later, it turns out that every year (or maybe more, i wasn’t paying attention) they revive some frozen dude and he goes on a date with Tosh. I guess the dates are so bad he has to be frozen to survive them (zing!!!).

But wait! The fabric of reality starts to unravel or summat. It all boils down to Tosh and his Popsicle Shagpiece… What to do? End it up all in tears, that’s the Torchwood way! Get out the crying towel (TM The Thing) because it’s a bit of a sad ending. Not as heart-wrenching as the episode Out of Time, but still I felt sad. There’s a nice nod back, when Owen (who isn’t on arsehole mode anymore) offers a bit of advice to Tosh (with him having been through something similar in Out of Time). Loved that bit

Seriously, Helen Raynor’s scripts are much better in Torchwood than in Doctor Who, if you ask me. She knows how to tell a good little tear jerker, with some solid points here and there (and a few gaps that require audience disbelief, but I’ll give ‘em…it’s Sci Fi!) and a good selection of music (et tu, Moby?). Great, quiet little episode, a welcome relief after the kill-o-drama that was Sleeper.

Quick thoughts:

-Wow! Old Torchwood!

-Ah, how sweet, they are in love! Where’s the stuffed toy, dude? You gotta be more romantic!

-”They died so young!” AHHH SCARY!! Is that the arc?!?!

-It’s the return of Cardiff overshots! Yay!

-Ewwwwwww! I’m no homophobe but.. EEEEEEEWWWWW!!… where’s a lesbian kiss for us horny straight dudes?!?!?! WE DEMAND THEM!

-Haunted hospitals?!?! SWEET JEBUS AND HIS TOY DALEKS!! SCARY SH1T!!!

-Argh…time….travel…predestination…head hurts!!

Now, the ratings:

Times the overbearing score tells you to cry, cry, cry!

Times you thought to yourself: hey, it might be something good!

…out of which IT DELIVERS!

Times you think Helen Raynor is much better in Torchwood

Times you think to yourself “yeah, we know they are at it..be subtle, yes?”

Moments you pause and say “Where’s Funny Ianto!?!? I NEED IANTO BEING FUNNY, NOT SNOGGING CAP JACK!!”

Character changes that feel more like “out of character moments” (i.e. Owen being nice and sympathetic and not being a “i’ll shag ANYTHING!” bastidd):

FrillyRating:

RTD says:
IT DELIVERS!!!

Spinster #7 Good memories falling apart into far off places

Finally! Time to do one of these

I’ve been having a few weird days, and these following albums remind me of my time in England… I’d like to write a short story for you, but the reviews will suffice for today, methinks…

Tweaker – The attraction to all things uncertain Ex-drummer and all around nice guy from Nine Inch Nails, Chris Vrenna (aka Tweaker) decided to continue the magic of his previous album on this one. You can feel the love of musique concrete, since he continues to sample a few noises from real life and manipulate them. I found this album because I obsessed over his soundtrack for the American McGee’s Alice videogame. A few guest vocalists on the odd track complete the album, although Chris Vrenna’s own voice is quite hypnotic. The disc takes me back to those long walks in Nottingham, a while ago. Oddly, the music matched the autumn skies, overcast and gloomy, with those red-leaves coloured trees that I loved to watch while doing my jaunty walk through the streets. It’s either a soundtrack for a little gnome living in small bungalows in the Midlands or an allegory for that long commute to work. Superb.

Best tracks: Full cup of coffee, Microsize Boy, Linoleum, Take me alive, Years from now, Empty sheet of paper.

Check him out if you dig: Chris Vrenna (obviously), Nine Inch Nails (the more calmer, instrumental part), The Dust Brothers, Death in Vegas, Aphex Twin, Autechre, David Sylvian, Cliff Martinez, Gorillaz, Shawn Lee.

Want a second opinion?
http://www.dailycal.org/article/6547/music_reviews
http://www.cosmik.com/aa-february02/reviews/review_tweaker.html
http://killtheradiostars.blogspot.com/2008/01/quin-sea-seguidor-del-rock-industrial.html
http://rateyourmusic.com/release/album/tweaker/the_attraction_to_all_things_uncertain/

Check their website?
Tweaker’s place (with mp3s!)

Mad Season – Above It was waaaaay back in ‘95 when I first heard this supergroup, an amalgamation of Seattle’s best. I never understood why I never bought the album until 6 years later, when November Hotel started to creep into my dreams. The simplicity of the song matches only the complicated nature of the solo and that series of contrasts (calm, soothing melodies with dark lyrics) are what really sold me the idea of Mad Season so much that I rate them higher than the original groups it was made from. River of Deceit is sheer poetry and Long Gone Day gets the Midas touch from the man, the legend, Mark Lanegan. It really is an under appreciated gem from an era that is mostly remembered now for Nirvana, Pearl Jam, flannel and Beavis and Butthead.

Best tracks: November Hotel, River of deceit, All alone, Long gone day…aww, heck, all of them!

Check ‘em out if you dig: Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, Mark Lanegan, Screaming Trees, Queens of the stone age, Wellwater Conspiracy.

Want a second opinion?
http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=10:gud0ylmoxpvb
http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/madseason/albums/album/302265/review/5941176/above
http://rateyourmusic.com/release/album/mad_season/above/

Check their website?
No cigar, only a wiki.

Feeder – Comfort in sound Another group that I hold dear, just by the sheer good memories it brings me because of the day I first heard them. It was a nice Barbecue in Nottingham, with good friends, good drinks and fantastic music. I was not allowed to go near the stereo, as I was marked as having “bizarre musical tastes” by the rest of the people around me. Which turned out to be good, because otherwise I wouldn’t have heard Buck Rogers (from their previous album, Echo Park) or heard the fantastic song that sold me these guys, Comfort in sound. Previous to the release of this album, tragedy struck on the Feeder camp, as their drummer, John Lee, passed away. Even if the disc was already done, you can feel a bit of an aura near all the songs. What sold me this album is the frankness of the songs: sad but still with a ray of happiness here and there. Forget about tomorrow sounds a bit like U2’s Beautiful Day, but thankfully, the similarities end with the opening. Godzilla is the rocking bit of the album, which feels a bit out of place, but it’s a welcome change from the loving, nostalgic (heck, LONGING) atmosphere the entire album oozes. Beautiful.

Best tracks: Comfort in sound, Just the way I’m feeling, Forget about tomorrow, Come back around, Godzilla (where they go a bit Filter on us).

Check ‘em out if you dig: Ash, Delays, Eels, Mansun, Supergrass, Turin Brakes, Weezer, The Constantines, The Brakes (UK).

Want a second opinion?
http://www.leedsmusicscene.net/article/2257/
http://www.bbc.co.uk/manchester/music/2002/10/21/comfort_in_sound.shtml
http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=10:ktsqoarawijz
http://www.contactmusic.com/new/home.nsf/webpages/feederx22×10x02

Check their website?
Feeder’s website

Belong – October Language I bought it without knowing a single thing about it. I just saw it on the bargain bin of my local cd store and was tempted to do a blind buy on it. Sometimes it has worked, sometimes I’ve tanked with my choices. I think what grabbed me where the song titles, so I gambled upon it. I listened to it late at night, in those moments before getting to sleep and although I was sleepy, I never fell asleep until the disc ended. It’s quite relaxing, depressing and moving, all at the same time. I can honestly recommend all the tracks, but the one I’ve been listening to the most is Remove the inside, which starts with a highly distorted riff that saturates all senses, a bit like your auditive senses are on fire. As the track progresses, it starts to mellow out into a “contemplative mood” that frankly can make me go into tears, associating the song to something that happened to me a bunch of years ago. Cathartic? Probably. Noisy? Sure as heck! Trippy album for all who love ambient noises.

Best tracks: Red velvet or nothing, I never lose, really and the fantastic trip that is Who told you this room exists? But lately, the one that really gets me and defines this group for me is Remove the inside.

Check ‘em out if you dig: Amusement parks on fire, Nine inch Nail’s The Fragile, Brian Eno, Passengers, Malcolm Clarke, Stars of the lid, Fennesz, Growing.

Want a second opinion?
http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=10:1meyxdkb6ol0
http://www.almostcool.org/mr/1676/
http://dustedmagazine.com/reviews/2685
http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/article/record_review/15918-october-language
http://www.prefixmag.com/reviews/belong/october-language/14861/

Check their website?
Belong’s MySpace

PS: Coming soon…essays!