Under Review: Ministry

For many, Al Jourgensen and his seminal band Ministry, represented the best of what industrial music could be. Ministry was raw with Jesus Built My Hotrod, referential in using over-the-top Ed Wood dialogue lifted from The Violent Years (1956) for So What?! and incendiary with clear-eyed tirades against the neo-fascist leanings of both Bush administrations in Rio Grand Blood and New World Order.

A Mind is A Terrible Thing To Taste, released in 1989, was probably the most unlikely album ever to be certified a "Gold" album. The tracks were ugly, pulsing, guitar-driven echoes from a subterranean vault. Thieves featured cuts from Full Metal Jacket interspersed with The War At Home - an anti-war documentary set in Viet Nam era Wisconsin. The track questions the value of human life when it is arbitrarily ordered to kill or not to kill. This question is set against a backdrop of earth-shaking drums and sonically charged guitars.

In Case You Didn't Feel Like Showing Up, released in 1990, showcased the lurching, electrifying performances of Ministry's best music from nearly 10 years of experimentation. The album and documentary featured Deity, Stigmata, So What?!, Thieves and Burning Inside from the Land of Rape and Honey (released in 1988) and the best cuts from A Mind is A Terrible Thing To Taste. The documentary also featured Jello Biafra who Jourgensen collaborated with in the infamous art-punk band Lard.

Ministry confronted the contemptible effects of fanatical religion, claustrophobic urban society and the modern jingoistic bent in media on the human spirit in a way that their contemporaries could not approach. Jourgensen re-purposed this propaganda and re-directed it back at it's creators. The efforts of his contemporaries: Front 242, Godflesh, and Skinny Puppy seemed monotonous and lacking in coherent subject matter in comparison.

Psalm 69 was released in 1992 and was Ministry's last great album. This album seemed to be about decayed structures, one piled onto the next, and contains the inspired collaboration with Gibby Haynes (of Texas psycho-billy band the Butthole Surfers) in Jesus Built My Hotrod. This track made Ministry an MTV staple. The album also contained the grinding, nihilist TVII questioning the value of broadcasted "facts" in mass media. The title track, Psalm 69, targeted the blinding effects found in religiously compelled zealots and the near sexual ecstasy of witch burnings.

On July 18th, 2008, after 27 years, Ministry officially called it quits. But, in 2009, just to confound people that keep track of things like release dates: they released a double CD and a DVD called Adios...Puta Madres with a bonus documentary called Fuchi Requiem shot in part in Jougrensen's adopted hometown of El Paso, Texas.

References:

• The Official Ministry Web Site
  
• Wikipedia, Ministry
  
• Prongs.org, Ministry Discography
  
• Slicing Up Eyeballs, Al Jourgensen Speaks

Off The Shelf: Fear(s) of the Dark (2008)

Chuck Burns, in between his hilarious family-values oriented magic shows, found time to create a painstakingly rendered animation called I Love Everybody So Much I Could Seriouslly Pee Myself (3011). Some might say.


Our hero makes an important discovery in the laboratory.

Suddenly, this animation was stolen by evil Frenchmen and shamelesslly re-titled Ohhhhhh Snap, Cuz! (1993). Which, maybe, seems kind of hard to see happening, in retrospect. It was heard, once. Perhaps.


Our hero discovers more important things in the laboratory.

But, it could be said, Mr. Sark recently enjoyed using his terrific mental powers to make intricate graphic novels and animation. Which, he was arrested and tried for, in absentia, then sentenced to Life in prison. Best of luck to you, Mrs. Burke!

References:

• Wikihow, How Exactly Do I Know If Someone Is Using Sarcasm?
  
• Prima Linea Productions, US Trailer
  
• Prima Linea Productions, Production Info
  
• Twitch Film, FFR 2008
  
• Pittsburgh City Paper, Fear(s) of the Dark

Deep Cuts From Daddy's Vault: Punk

In the era of punk and politics there are no other voices like Jello Biafra. As the creative force behind the seminal Dead Kennedys he challenged the classic hypocrisies of an era of Reaganomics, "voodoo" ecomonics, institutionalized racism, the emergence of an American police state, consumerism and vapid TV culture.

Decades of million dollar lawsuits by former members against Jello began as soon as the band broke up in 1986. After being acquitted in August of 1987 of criminal obscenity charges and settling the civil suits in 2005 by selling the DK library to LA's Manifesto Records Jello and his label Alternative Tentacles have been very active. He's a regular on the spoken word circuit and his new work with the Melvins as the Jelvins is the best music he's recorded since his days with Lard.

Dead Kennedys - Halloween.mp3

Deep Cuts From Daddy's Vault: Psychobilly

Mojo Nixon is a high-energy musician who combines elements from blues, comedy, and blue grass into his own whiskey soaked brand of rock 'n roll. Over the course of his 23 year career he's released 16 albums including collaborations with artists like Jello Biafra and Skid Roper. Currently, Mojo has two talk shows on satellite radio on NASCAR and politics.


Mojo Nixon and Skid Roper - In La Gadda La Vida.mp3

Cap'n Lou 1933-2009

Captain Lou Albano died at the age of 76 Wednesday October 14^th in Westchester County in suburban New York.

Louis Vincent Albano was born on July 29, 1933, in Rome. After moving to the U.S., the family settled in Mount Vernon, N.Y. Albano began wrestling in 1953 in Canada. In the mid-1980's he worked with the WWF's most popular wrestlers Hulk Hogan, "Rowdy" Roddy Piper and Andre the Giant.

Survivors include his wife, Geri, four children and 14 grandchildren.

References:

• NPR, 'Rock n' Wrestling' Icon Captain Lou Albano Dies
  
• Media Funhouse, The Guiding Light: Deceased Artiste Capt. Lou Albano

Off The Shelf: The Dark Crystal (1982)

Survival on Thra starts with carrying a big ass stick on your crystal-unifying expeditions.

"The screenplay by Mr. Henson, is without any narrative drive whatsoever. It's without charm as well as interest." – The Dark Crystal reviewed in a New York Times article by Vincent Canby from December 17^th 1982

In the early eighties, film critics, a small and influential cabal of reviewers who were paid to regularly point the public in the wrong direction, inadvertently helped create cult followings for films.

Films like Dune (1984), Blade Runner (1984), and the Dark Crystal (1982) were the subjects of heavy scorn for opening up new vistas in film. When originally released, they were called flops by ham-handed critics and consequently lost massive amounts of money. These films eventually made their directors incredibly successful when they were rediscovered by fans on laser disc, videotape and late night TV after being forced out of theaters.

Jim Henson's Dark Crystal was reviewed much the same way. It wasn't even that far ahead of it's time but was still rejected by critics in favor of Tootsie released the same year, a “reluctant transvestite” Mrs. Doubtfire-esque comedy for the ages, which was widely celebrated as a "hit".

The Dark Crystal, unlike other "hits" of 1982 like Grease 2 and Rocky 3, was not a bubble-gum pop film. It dealt with the nature of good in the thrall of evil. Not a feel good groan-mantic comedy starring Adam Sandler, John Travolta, Drew Barrymore or Milton Berle in a sundress. Maybe the fact that the powerfull and timeless nature of the Dark Crystal's theme has something to do with the reason the film is continually celebrated each passing decade. It's one of those rare movies that was so carefully crafted that it leaves a mark deeply on you.

The foul and vicious Skeksis usually bent on gelficide take a free moment to exchange Garthim wrangling tips.

As an audience, movies like this so clearly belong in your life. These movies recognize something vital to you as a person. By exploring this kind of movie it renews your faith in the human qualities that Jim Henson embraced in his work: individuality and community rendered with strangely humorous warmth.

The Dark Crystal is one of these formative films. It celebrates the time-honored story-telling tradition of hapless good, however improbably, defeating overwhelming evil. The movie does this without big dance numbers, massive egos, overbearing actors or ridiculously bad screenplays. The films from the early eighties that we recognize as "classics" today succeeded based on nothing more than their own merits as a story.

Other films that were widely hated in print and trade journals by critics in the eighties, which also became definitive movies for generation after generation include: Purple Rain (1982), The Thing (1982), Pink Floyd The Wall (1982), Tron (1982), 2010 (1984), The Toxic Avenger (1984) and personal favorite C.H.U.D. (1984).

This should go to show that the average person must put the reviews down once and awhile (including the modern blog and city rag) and experience a movie or show based on their own perception - without allowing someone, who isn't that great at what they do for a living, to "think" for them.

Some original promotional material from The Dark Crystal:

References:

• The Dark Crystal, A Film By Jim Henson
• Brian Fround, Dark Crystal Art
• Dark Crystal Manga, Toyko Pop
• New York Times, Dark Crystal review by Vincent Canby: 1982
• New York Times, Dune review by Janet Masslin: 1984
• IMDB, Top Grossing Films of 1982
• IMDB, Top Grossing Films of 1984

J.R.R. Tolkien Rescues Internet Porn

Alright, I'll be the first to admit it. Between tasks I'll occasionally poke around the internet for porn. It happens. I'm a guy. It's what guys do. Maybe girls spend their free time searching the net for prayer manuals from Tibet or thigh high boots (if there is a like minded compassionate deity) but - as a guy I will, from time to time, look at strange boobs on the Internet.

And, apparently, I'm not the only one. According to recent reports pornography makes up %1 of the internet and %8 of all email. Of this oozing mass of porno, at least %85 is total crap. It's badly lit shots of cow-eyed blondes chowing down on the same cock/cocks/carpet (or combination of all of the above) with the same amount of interest that they'd have in deciding between the #1 or #5 value meal at White Castle. They look so mentally checked out. The fact that they are usually staring at a video monitor (located off screen) like a zombie vacantly pondering their reflection doesn't help either.

Come on internet smut peddler! Whassamatter? Did your two days in on-line photography class teach you nothing about production values?

This stuff is so mind-numbingly boring. Where's the sex and danger that I had paging through purloined Hustlers as an adolescent? I found myself punching in obscure terminology like smart brunette slut, nerd chick tits, and even broccolli milf in an effort to bypass the mundane, silicone stuffed, bleach blondes that have commandeered porn.

So, while searching at Google Images for strange boobs, because what else is it for, I exhausted nearly all possible smut-related search terminology in a vain hope that it didn't lead me into a dark, sweaty corner of the information super highway that was entirely populated with burning candles crammed where the sun doesn't shine, fat men on leashes, women in latex masks, or even weirder abuse that masquerades as "sex".

This was all in an effort to find something interesting, untanned, emotionally present, and for lack of a better word: Good. True believers, after a long search, I have found the promised land and have returned to deliver the word.

Imagine that J.R.R. Tolkien spent a Fall night with a demure Xena (yes, as in Warrior Princess) played Warcraft, made out and then dreamed up an adult web site. Impossible you say, ye naysayer? No, my skeptical friend, Whorelore.com is here to save porn for the rest of us. Cute elf on cuter elf action meets a wandering Cymerian woodsman? Check. A green forest nymph* tamed by a savage barbarian before they encounter a horned demoness who resembles a young Bettie Page? Check. All LARP, all the time. Not poorly costumed/naked Flintstones - these chicks are pretty hot.

Not enough, say you? Hmm. Ok, how's about a site that is genuinely fun, sexy, and informative that's not a platform to keep platinum blondes and failed actresses in coke and rental cars? Aredbloodedthing.com is all of this and more. There you will find real stories of the actors, writers and directors in adult entertainment along with some interesting solo galleries of physically gifted women.

Did you know that vapid pop stars Mandy Moore and Brittney Spears have been using veteran porn director Gregory Dark on their music videos? Or that there is a HIV/AIDS quarantine list for infected porn actors? Did you learn that while enjoying the pure physical wonders of perky 23-year-old breasts? Aha. Now you will actually be able to say you read it for the articles and really mean it.

No sir, this is not your brother the mindless frat boy's porn. This is ultra porn - be carefull. Like Grampy Media always used to say, "yer gonna go blind ya keep messin' with dat ting, ya bum!". So please, use your ultra porn carefully. If you get too excited repeat to yourself: it's only porno, it's only porno.

You've been warned.

References:

• Whore Lore: The Adventure Begins
• Sex Is A Red Blooded Thing
  
• Gamerfetish, World of Warcraft
  
• Bare Maidens, D&D vs. T&A
  
• IMDB, Gregory Dark

* = The correct term, for you keen-eyed sharp shooters, is "dryad", an ancient Greek forest spirit. But, unfortunantly, no part of the word "dryad" will ever effectively illicit the phrase: "Wow, that's hot". - The Cap'N

Harvey Weinstein to Teenage America: We Are All Out of Corpses

I walked out of my home theater when I recently screened Control (2008), the Joy Division biopic from Anton Corbijn. I proceeded to hide in my bedroom for an hour while the movie churned on in the living room featuring a series of actors going blankly through the motions.

The band is depicted as a group of meaningless angst-ridden youths without any real problems besides combating the evil injustice of boredom. In the second act, singer Ian Curtis develops epilepsy and depression that would kill him at 23 in 1980. It was the only thing that happens in the movie. The whole film was the Janis Joplin story without a soul. This is the final signal that rock 'n roll is officially out of martyrs to be exhumed and aggrandized - paving the way for a Biggie Smalls biopic featuring Jamie Fox in a fat suit. The dubious credit for the script goes to Matt Greenhalgh who adapted the award-winning screenplay on the book by Ian's wife, Deborah Curtis.

It occured to me (while hiding from this movie) that Ravi Shankar, when faced with a sea of new and not very dedicated students, described (on the Dick Cavett show in August of 1971) that his new pupils "had everything...wanting for nothing but willing to throw it all away on whim". This seemed to be the core of the movie, where superficial smarm: "No offense I call everyone a 'daft cunt'.", says the band's new manager by way of introduction to the old manager, marginal dialogue: "Lets have a baby" says Ian."OK" says Deborah - CUT SCENE, and no commitment to character: the frantic gestures of the real Ian Curtis versus actor Sam Reilly's self conscious imitation all substituted for a story.

There is no attention to storycraft at all. No compelling narrative. It was like a timeline about jellyfish written in Latin. The movie was a weird, artificial ride at the mall with a bummer at the end. The film captured none of the band's driving ferocity that was held in loose check by an emotional distance sustained by the real life Ian Curtis.

If Hollywood labodomized Train Spotting (1996) then had a very average bar band cover Joy Division performances - you would have this film. I've seen Manos, Hands of Fate at least 11 times and this movie had me on my knees after a full hour. I was cowering in my bedroom praying to non-existent DVD gods for release. I barely ever take a dump on this crap (because it's everywhere) but be warned - this movie is destined to be buried deep in the Sonoma desert with the Indiana Jones sequel, the Rock's acting career and the head of Jar Jar Binks.

Deep Cuts From Daddy's Vault: Classic Country

Kitty Wells is who people mean when they say female country music star. She was only 19 when she was first invited to be featured on the Nashville based radio program the Grand Ole Opry. Her controversial song, "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels" made her the first female country singer to top the U.S. country charts. She recorded this break-out hit for Decca, in May 1952 at 33, for $125.

Kitty was part Patsy Cline in her vocal range part, heard in her song "Making Believe", she was part June Carter Cash with her heartfelt lyrics in "Dear Brother" and "Don't Wait for the Last Minute to Pray" and sometimes featured irregular subjects like "My Big Truck Driving Man". She was a friend and contemporary of Dolly Parton, Tammy Wynette and Loretta Lynn during her 50 years in country music.

Kitty Wells - Making Believe.mp3

Deep Cuts From Daddy's Vault: Lo-Fi

When an artist comes along, like lo-fi pioneer Daniel Johnston, who has a sincere connection to goofy, heartfelt music - the load gets lighter for everyone. You realize, quickly, that dreaming of brooding in a sea of flickering lighter flames (screeching "Rrrrowwund here") is not important. The love of what got you into music, in the first place, is important. Manufactured angst isn't required.

The tendency in the music industry is to take itself too seriously. Uninspired rock bands Creed and Blink 182 have a commitment to an "image" greater than the commitment to their music. In Blink 182's "First Date" the lyrics are: "do you like my stupid hair? would you guess that I didn't know what to wear?" These are shallow Pop bands in disguise, groups that crank out sulky, vapid songs for an insulated middle-class audience* that wants something unimportant to mourn and rage against.

In Lo-Fi, there was no uniform or image - the music had to do all the work. Lo-fi was independently produced as an off-shoot of garage rock. It was mostly traded in cassette format in the 1980's and became the foundation for "Alt" music in the 1990's. Lo-Fi followed no formula dealing with personal issues and unique arrangments rather than verse-chorus-verse anthems to big hair, margaritas and leather pants.

Daniel Johnston, beginning in Texas in the early 1980's , at his brightest: was crazy. He was bi-polar, alienated, childish, simple-minded and uncomfortable in every situation except when he was talking about or making music. %90, of his hundreds of songs, sound exactly the same. But his whining, nasal vocal commitment to upbeat sincere lyrics that dealt with fawning over the Beatle's work ethic, suicides of talented friends, and "never letting the sun set on a grievance" are a unique perspective on unavoidable problems everyone faces.

Daniel Johnston - Don't Be Scared.mp3

* = It's fine to be middle-class. It doesn't mean you are stupid or uncool. But Blink 182's First Date "jitters" can't compete with "Fuck you, I won't do what you told me", a Rage Against the Machine lyric calling for real social and political change. There are two distinct levels of talent here. If 21^st boy bands have tattoos and green hair this doesn't make than anything more than another corporate creation crooning about meaningless crap.

Under Review: The Ramones

"You're a politician, don't become one of Hitler's children." - Bonzo Goes To Bitburg lyrics from The Ramones 9^th album Animal Boy.

The Ramones crawled out of the New York Bowery scene in the mid-1970's to become one the most definitive bands in rock 'n roll. They played over 2000 shows over the next 22 years becoming the band that was there from the beginning to the bitter end of the first wave of Punk rock music.

As Johnathon "Rotten" Lydon and Malcolm McClaren were interviewing bassists for the Sex Pistols, Jeffrey "Joey Ramone" Hyman was busy being booted out of Bowery Bars for being the "weird guy in the leather jacket". In a town that was embracing disco and clinging to the last derivative gasps of folk-hippie music rock 'n roll was alien and weird. The Ramones first appearences at CBGB's were nightmares. The owner, Hilly Kristal, hated them, the crowd hated them, future members of The Misfits, Bad Brains, Talking Heads, and Television in the audience hated them - and all of them bought their albums anyway.

Their material covered everything and did it with a growl. The wild, lovelorn, lanky and lovable creeps were fans of pulp comics, very bad movies, and even badder girls. They were products of the American suburbs and cities that they played and lived in. Their music and image let their audience know that there was no escape from a mangled mainstream society other than what you can make of it: that music was somehow a tool to build an escape hatch from institutionalized insanity.

With 14 studio albums, 2263 live shows, and one surviving original member later (drummer Tommy Erdelyi) the Ramones body of work is still raw, sick and enjoyable on many levels. The Ramones look like they will go down in history as the band that America loved to hate.

References:

• New York Times, Reagan Joins Kohl at Bitburg Graves
  
• The History of CBGB's
  
• Redshift, Ramones Discography
  
• Kristal's comments taken from American Hardcore (2006)