Best Secret Adventure

I took a secret trip over the weekend. I can't talk about it, because it was a secret. But here's over 100 pictures, so I've practically written you a 300+ page book on the trip. (That's advanced Picture = 1000 Words math, if you didn't know)























































































































Video of Bucket Head.



















































Videoof a Trap. (WATCH THIS ONE!)





































A Video, Not a Photo
A Video of Dancing






A Video of Back Rub Results



























I can't believe I only took one picture of my Dad.

Best Putting the Tease in Teaser

Here is the teaser trailer for next summer's Superman Returns. It is a trailer about anticipation. I'm giving this movie a gold star already, and I think it'll deliver (unlike you, Roll Bounce, who lead me to dream but turned out so blah.)

Also, horses must be held when it comes to learning about my mysterious weekend.

Best Mysterious Disappearance

It's hardly even a secret anymore, but I'm headed off on a secret adventure tonight. I'll be back . . . later.

Until then, here's a stupid thought I had. There's a band called the Kills, but they're nowhere nearly as popular as the band called the Killers. There's a band called the Thrills, but they haven't sold nearly as many records as the album called "Thriller." Could an "-er" ending be the thing that divides good bands from the great? From marginal success to superstardom? Should the Sounds rename themselves "The Sounders"? Should Spoon become "Spooners"? The Chills to "Chillers" . . . or look at this way: What's maybe the best band ever? The Beatles. But what is even more best than the Beatles? The Beatle-Ers! Or, what would be more successful than the Killers? The Killerers. Or sometimes the addition of an -er could change the meaning of a band entirely. For example, what happens if a band switches from Hot Hot Heat to Hot Hot Heaters? Now they're ready to compeat with the Fiery Furnaces, and in a place where people live in cramped apartments like New York, it makes more sense to have a Hot Hot Heater in your apartment than a Fiery Furnace. Two nights ago I saw the Harlem Shakes, but I did not see the small, furniture crafting religious group the Harlem Shakers.

Is the music buying public just more excited by the possibility of being close to an action verb? Feel free to invent more -er addition improvements.

Dumb. yes. But the sort of thing that gets thought on crowded busses.

Best Going Out With a Bang

I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge, but I was there.
I was there.
I was there in 2005
I was there when the Arctic Monkeys played their first Mercury Lounge show in New York.

First of all, "The Arctic Monkeys" is a terrible name for a band.

Moving on . . .

I've been complaining recently that catching shows by bands I barely know has been wearing me out and boasting that I was looking forward to last night's Arctic Monkeys show because it was the last concert I had a ticket to and after it I'd be free from keeping up on what's coming up in the world of rock.

But last night's show? What a way to end. The Rakes, Test-Icicles, Lady Sovereign, Art Brut, they've all been talked up a bit, but no one has been talked up like the Arctic Monkeys. The British press has called them "the next Oasis" and said their singer the finest British lyricist since Morrissey. This band hasn't even put out an album yet, but their first single, "I Bet You Look Good On the Dance Floor" went straight to number one on the UK charts and their first London gig was a sold out show in one of the city's largest clubs. In short, it is ridiculous the attention and talk that the Arctic Monkeys get, so I had no choice but to get a ticket to their show at the ridiculously intimate Mercury Lounge to see what they were about.

It is quite possible that the British press wasn't exaggerating one bit about this band. While their stage show is quite subdued (they don't move around much, but they do play their instruments very, very fast) they are such, such a good band. They're just 4 kids, none of whom look like they could be older than 19, but the music they play is so, so tight and the singer (my research has been shallow, I don't know his name) has a perfect rock voice. I could not have been more impressed, hype could not have been more justified. They Monkeys are playing a second show tonight (this one a sold-out set at the Bowery Ballroom, bumped up from the Mercury Lounge) and I do not mean for this order to be empty: if you live in New York and you care about this sort of thing, beg, borrow, craigslist, or steal a way into this show you will Not regret it. (I'd recommend begging as it's no trick to get into sold out shows at the Bowery, but tonight could be an exception).

Monkey Pedals!



Here's a good idea for bands: have an enormous roadie that makes the guitars look like tiny toys when he tunes them.



The Arctic Monkeys took the stage to the strains of "Tha Next Episode" by Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg. Why? Because they're a bunch of kids. The club was packed with record label types, hungry old men with plans for making loads of money off this band. And photographers, there were so many professional photographers there.



Seconds into the first song I was completely won over, and the band wasn't stingey with the awesome, they played their "big hit" I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor almost right away . . . it was a trick to keep the crowd really worked up, as most of us hadn't heard most of their songs before.



These pictures mostly look the same because the band barely moved around. They were too busy sounding perfect to jump around and stuff.





Here's a theory for you: The Arctic Monkeys are a modern day Charles Dickens novel . . . four boys from the streets of London raised by a ruthless (but mildly kind) master to rock better than anyone else and to make that master rich. In fact, were the Artful Dodger not the name of a British garage artist, "Artful Dodger" would be a much better name than "The Arctic Monkeys" (but, then again, almost anything would be a better name than "The Arctic Mokeys"). But guess what? My theory is true, maybe. This Fagin-looking fellow was running the show from the side of the stage, making all sorts of gestures at the band, telling what to do next, and kicking out photographers he felt had overstayed their welcome.



What did I say, they're just a bunch of kids.



The singer made good small talk between songs. For some reason they had to take long breaks between almost every song.













Despite having almost not moved around the stage at all during the whole set, the band threw down their guitars at the end of their last song (the magnificent "Certain Romance") and the drummer kicked over his kit. That's always a good sign that there won't be an encore.



Here's something for the "I Kid You Not" File: During the show the giant roadie held up a piece of paper at the side of the stage with something written on it and it made the drummer and guitarist crack up (I'm sure Fagin wasn't pleased with this at all and Giant Roadie got no porridge that night). After the show Giant Roadie was handing out setlists to the audience, (it turns out the paper he held up was a setlist) and he gave the girl right by me the setlist he had held up to the band . . . and you know what it said on it? "I Love Lamp." I kid you not. These British boys, they love our American comedy!

This is a set list with nothing on it besides the songs that were played that night.



In other news, The Harlem Shakes opened for the Arctic Monkeys. That's a pretty good name for a band. But some better names for the band would be:

"Blowdryer Club"



"The High-Pitched Lady Singers"



or . . .

"Our Bassist is Awesome!!!"









Sometimes I wonder if the Mercury Lounge will be revered in 30 years the way CBGBs is now? Probably not, as the Mercury Lounge might still book decent acts 30 years from now.

Best Worst Time Not to Have Camera

These are things I didn't photograph this weekend.

1) Bauhaus at the Nokia theater.
2) Marsha being in town
3) Eating Indian with Marsha and other BYU artists
4) Going to "The Top of the Rock" with Marsha and the other BYU artists.
5) Seeing SO MANY (two) shooting stars from on top of "The Top of the Rock", one of which burned up in color (does that mean it almost destroyed the earth?)

Seriously, "The Top of the Rock," the "new" rooftop observatory at Rockefeller Center gets a total two thumbs up from me because it isn't crowded, it's clean, the elevator roof is see-through, there is lots of room, you can see the park, and the workers (even the cashiers!) are all nice.

I've never been to the top of the Empire State Building, but I'm sure "The Top of the Rock" is better.

Best Brutal Night Out

When was this . . . Wednesday night or Thursday night? Either Wednesday night or Thursday night I started out by making a monster out of a dinner roll and meeting Andrew Enke (not pictured [Andrew]).


Here's an outtake of a blurrier but more threatening version of dinner roll monster and me.

Then I braved bitter cold and went down to the Mercury Lounge to catch Art Brut, the latest British hype-explosion to be playing their first show in New York. (their opening act, Psychic Ills, deserve mentioning as their murky rock was pretty hot.)

First off, I'm promising myself that Art Brut is the next-to-last British hype-explosion that I'm catching this year because I am getting worn out staying on top of the NME. 2005 = So Many Concerts I Nearly Died, and the year isn't even over yet.

But anyway, Art Brut was something else. At the end of this post I'll post the "review" of their show I wrote for the school paper (you don't really have to read it) that's mostly me mulling over what Art Brut's deal might be . . . because there's a "deal" to Art Brut--they might be serious, they might be a joke, or maybe it just might not matter whether they're serious or a joke.



But one thing that can certainly be said about Art Brut is that they really rock and really know how to get a crowd worked-up. The show was bananas.



"Are You Ready Art Brut?" That's what the band's singer, Eric Argos, would say before each song.





It had been a while since I'd seen a stand-up drummer . . . like, maybe not since the Subsonics opened for Man or Astroman? in 1996?



Everyone in the place had cameras and everyone in the place was taking all the pictures they could and that resulted in blurry multi-flash photos like this one. But Brooklyn Vegan has some quality pictures up you should check out (what's so quality about them? You can see me in several of them, that's what.) Click!





Sometimes I give in and turn on my flash.





Okay, here's my messy article from the Commentator. If you have a really boring job, or really want to think about Art Brut, read it . . .

When Art Brut took the stage late last Thursday night at the Mercury Lounge, their guitarist started the night out with the familiar opening chords of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” before the band launched into their first song, “We Formed a Band.” Now, the question that crossed my mind when I heard “Back in Black” is a question which encapsulates the entire Art Brut experience: Is this band (“this band” being yet another British hype-bomb making one of it’s first ever US appearances after accumulating massive amounts of attention at home in the UK and having been written-up in every self-respecting cutting-edge-of-cool music blog from Stereogum to Brooklyn Vegan) serious? Is the band playing “Back in Black” with their tongues in cheek, intending for the crowd of Lower East Side amassed at the Mercury Lounge that night to wink right back at them—or is Art Brut starting off with a little “Back in Black” because those are, quite frankly, some of rock n roll’s most potent opening chords?

Art Brut (a five-piece outfit consisting of a lead singer who dresses and behaves like a cross between Jack White, Oscar Wilde, Snidely Whiplash, and a washed-up Vegas lounge singer; a guitarist who resembles Sid Vicious at a healthy weight; a second guitarist right along the lines of the skinny British rockers that inspire the works of painter Elizabeth Peyton; an unenthusiastic but robotically consistent drummer who plays standing up; and a maroon-haired female bassist) is a band who’s every move and every song suggests that they could be motivated by an agenda to subvert the norms of what we expect from cool rock n roll—or maybe they’re sincere, but self-aware, and their so-simple-that-maybe-they’re-jokes sort of rock songs are really direct representations of exactly what Art Brut wants to be rocking out about.

What am I talking about? Let me try to explain . . .

One of the stand out tracks from their debut album, “Bang Bang Rock n Roll,” is a song called “Modern Art,” a driven anthem where verses in which the lead singer, Eddie Argos, narrates situations in which he has been overcome by certain pieces of modern art in certain galleries throughout Europe in pretty much his speaking voice are traded off against shout-along inspiring chorus of “Modern Art! Makes Me! Want To Rock Out!” (It should be noted that, in general, all Art Brut songs can consist of nearly-spoken narratives by Argos trading off against shout-along choruses) But the question is, does modern art really make Argos want to rock out? Or is this a joke of a song playing with the notion of the contemporary art scene as forum for rock star and rock show behavior and attitude?

I just don’t know, but I’m leaning towards thinking the band is sincere, yet calculating—which is certainly refreshing in this world where rock can only be sincere (consider Bloc Party, for example) or calculated (the Darkness) but never both. Art Brut isn’t afraid to infuse their music with a sense of humor, but that doesn’t mean they intend to be taken as a joke. While the seriousness of their seemingly silly songs is almost completely lost in recorded form, watching Art Brut live reveals that Argos is certainly emotionally caught up in songs like “Good Weekend” (a meditation on the elation which comes with finding oneself in a new romantic relationship) or “Rusted Guns of Milan” (a darkly-comic remembrance of romantic shortcomings which seemed to have Argos near tears by its end).

The fact that I’ve written about six-hundred words so far about the possible motivations of this band (without even touching on the fact that “art brut” is the French term for “outsider art” and all that that could imply) instead of the fact that they put on an absolutely great, high-energy show last week might be the ultimate testament to the internal conflict Art Brut can inspire in those inclined to over analyze things (that would be us, my fellow students of the law). So, if you can, try listening to “Bang Bang Rock n Roll” or catching an Art Brut show with your brain turned off, and you’ll like it just fine.

P.S. 19 years ago today I finally got a brother. That was a great day. Happy Birthday, Owen.

Best Sign that the End is Truly Upon Us

Stolen from an article in Variety:

Fox has cut Arrested Development Season 3 down to 13 episodes from 22 (as opposed to the trimming of Season 2 from 22 to 18) AND has pulled the show from their schedule, presumably just for the remainder of November sweeps. So maybe they'll bring it back in December?

Or maybe Fox will finally have the guts to just kill the show?

Not that I like the idea at all, but I'm going to take a stand and say that Season 3 has been off so far for me. Yes, yes, each episode has had its funny parts (particularly the Godzilla battle conclusion of "Mr F") but Episode 3 ("Forget Me Now") has been (in my book) the only episode on par with the best of Season 1 or 2 and I'm beginning to wonder what purpose Rita could serve for the show besides showing off that they got Charlize Theron to do guest spots. She's certainly not as compelling a character as Marta or even ditzy Ms.

Five episodes into Season 1 we had experienced the brilliant pilot, "Top Banana", "Bringing Up Buster", "Key Decisions", and "Charity Drive" -- not a bad episode among them. Episode 4 of Season 2 was us "Good Grief," possibly the very best episode of the series. Sure we can hope that the next episode of Season 3 might match "Afternoon Delight"'s brilliance (okay, "Afternoon Delight" also might be the best episode of the whole series), but I must admit I don't count on it.

The whole show is getting too wacky and feeds off its supporting cast in a manner like the Simpsons started to after, what, 10 seasons? Sure, it usually seems great, but if you come home to find your roommate busting a gut over the Season 1 DVDs, you'd realize like me that this show is pretty so-so these days.

I had to say it. Sorry.

Best Tuesday Night Adventures Along Broadway

Tuesdays are a mixed bag for me because I've got three classes on Tuesday BUT I don't have class on Wednesday . . . so Tuesday day is studious and stressful, and Tuesday night is like a vacation. Anyway, check out this crazy Tuesday night I had.

Back in 1995 there was a man. The man was named Scotty Duncan. He was the sharpest mod in all of Provo. Ten years later, Scotty, wife Angela, and children Perry and Ellis were vacationing on the east coast and I met up with them at the Times Square Toys R Us. If you're ever wondering how much the world can change but stay the same over 10 years, meet up with Scotty Duncan (who you used to find either dancing at Mama's Cafe or sitting on a couch in the Miller Apartments) and his family at the Times Square Toys R Us and have a talk.



Back when we were Jerks he was The Face and I was Bruiser. (I don't expect anyone else to understand this beyond Matt and Shane)



And then I ran (by subway) up to the creepy old Upper West Side (which was founded by Count Dracula in 1307, if you didn't know) because . . .


How do I best explain this? I suppose I have no choice but to be upfront about it: Once again I had been invited to the theatre by Stephen Mulcock, and this time, I had been invited to see "Almost Heaven", the NEW John Denver Musical!! And much like when Stephen invited me to see Steel Magnolias, I really couldn't think of any good reason (besides the obvious one: Uh, the John Denver Musical?) not to go . . . so I went.



As no one knew what to expect from the show, I decided to take Before and After photos of Steve, Natalie, and Liesel. This is Before . . .



And here's After! Looks like the show was a hit!


(I need to point out something here for those of you keeping a "Why Liesel is Awesome" list: Notice the change in Liesel's hair . . . in order to drive home how amazing Almost Heaven was, Liesel undid her ponytail to express the total "letting it all hang out" which occurred during the show.)

But, seriously. "Almost Heaven" is a John Denver musical best enjoyed by serious John Denver fans (they were there, dancing in the aisles as the show let out). Myself? The fifth song in the first Act was "Rocky Mountain High", and by then I had certainly gotten my super-bargain ticket's money's worth and could have left happy . . . and sane. I mean, it wasn't the worst show, but every actor on stage (even the women) reminded me of this goony outdoorsy guy that used to obsess over my sister in college and wait for her to come home from school sitting in the tree outside of her apartment . . . I don't mean to embarrass anyone or cause any family discussions, but that's what the people on the stage were like, except for the guy that was acting like he was the frontman from Creed. Still, lovers of John Denver . . . this is the plotless musical for you!

I will admit that the show made me feel closer to Mr. Denver than ever before (and my Dad once checked into a hotel at the same time as him.)



Due to high demand, a big version of the picture of John and I is now available here

And yes. One person's request = "high demand" around here