After what seemed like forever, Zach Snyder took the reins and managed to put The Watchmen on film. And thereafter, after much ado, I managed to score a copy of same on Blu-Ray.
I won't bother going into detail about the significance of the original graphic novel upon its release (nor in its continued longevity) nor the plot highlights nor the story nor any of that; nor will I parrot much of the same tidbits on-screen and online movie critics did with respect to the film version of this story. It's neither relevant nor an efficient use of space.
Having said all that, I was mostly impressed at the scope and the magnitude of the film. It was, more or less, engrossing and entertaining, despite its three-hour run time, and the effects and the fact that it very closely mirrored the novel itself -- in some cases, frame by frame -- really blew me away.
I don't remember the last time I saw a film and was so engaged and locked on for so long. It's not only because this film ran far longer -- almost double -- than most films do these days. It's that the story, coupled with the imagery and the far-reaching aspects of the project as a whole -- really captured and commanded my focus, sort of like watching one of the Godfather films for the first time.
It's the antithesis of a simple retelling of a comic book. But the Watchmen story -- a "graphic novel," if you will -- wasn't just another comic book. It dealt with sophisticated, adult themes: nuclear annihilation, rape, kidnapping, pornography, religion, the slow but steady decline of American society, and geopolitical unrest that genuinely threatened the human race as much, if not moreso, since the Cuban Missile Crisis. And those just top the list of this story's general themes.
The fact that the story is set in or around 1984 isn't particularly relevant, nor is the fact that Richard Nixon remained president (five terms, actually) since his initial term following Kennedy's assassination. Essentially, the film is as strongly tied to the novel as is any film you're likely to see.
Essentially, why it took so long to commit this story to film is that no one could accept the responsibility of projecting the entire breadth of the Watchmen story into a film without sacrificing packets of the story, which were critical to understanding it in its proper, massive scale. I'm not really sure how Zach Snyder, the director, managed to do so, but he shoehorned the entire story -- or the majority thereof -- into the three-hour run time. Some of the story, especially in its filmed form, was a bit ridiculous. But because this film features grown adults running around in costume -- replete with capes, masks, etc. -- the suspension of disbelief is a requirement for this film as much as 3D glasses are for a movie filmed in 3D.
Overall, if at all possible, I recommend viewing this film in Blu-Ray only because 90% of it is shot in partial or complete darkness, much as was The Dark Knight. It's not hard to see what's happening on screen but because Zach Snyder celebrates the details as he does, missing a third or more of same due to a poor source -- even a standard DVD -- will detract from the overall experience. Also advisable is viewing the movie in a proper setting with a system that can handle the dynamics of a film source that features whispers and explosions. This film makes extensive use of CGI (as much if not moreso than did his previous film, 300) but a good chunk of the CGI in this film was an ancillary but valuable part of the film nonetheless. In 300, none of the film was shot outdoors -- the skies and the surroundings were all CGI. In this film, there are endless uses of CGI but they're more in keeping with the Watchmen world (eg a New York seemingly ready to feed on itself in the absence of law, order and sanity).
I was and remain very surprised this film was green-lighted; inasmuch as I did enjoy it I could have predicted it would be a relative failure at the box office. How this could compete for dollars with any generic romantic comedy featuring Kate Hudson, Jennifer Garner, Sandra Bullock or Anne Hathaway is rhetorical; it can't and won't. What it is, however, is an epic portrayal of an epic story that spans decades and features an extremely solid cast (Malin Akerman, Billy Crudup, Matthew Goode, Jackie Earle Haley, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Patrick Wilson, etc.), revolutionary effects, a solid story, and, overall, will likely stay with you long after you've seen it. However, it's the kind of film that requires a commitment from the viewer, and I would advise anyone who hasn't read the novel to either do so prior to viewing or not bother at all. It's an intense retelling of a story that I really enjoyed, but it's not for everyone and while I'll view this film again, it's not the kind of easily-watchable film that will endear it to many.
But to answer the question "Who Will Watch the Watchmen?" count me in.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Monday, July 06, 2009
Someday, After A While
Despite the glut of repetitive coverage for the quickly-rising number of dead celebrities reported over the past few weeks, with a specific nod to Michael Jackson's shocking death, there's an article memorializing Robert McNamara, who died this morning at the age of 93, and there will likely be nothing further mentioned on this topic by any of the large news outlets, simply because the coming days will see far more Michael Jackson tribute/coverage and real "news."
However, McNamara wasn't a second-rate plug-in political hack like Karl Rove or Dick Cheney or Joe Biden. McNamara was a tough and bright guy who took us from the crusty, artificial sheen of the 1950's into the modern era. Not only did he revolutionize the way the military-industrial complex interacted with its civilian counterparts, he took the entire system into the then-emerging world of computers and organized the US military into something not just mighty but relatively efficient.
And of course there are a couple of other issues with which he had direct involvement: Cuba and Vietnam.
While most relatively alert Americans have a concept of these terms within the scope of their nation's history, far too many regard those two nations as, respectively, a tourist destination of the future (or a good source of spanish-speaking major league baseball pitchers) and an excellent source of knowledge for southeast Asian cuisine.
In the Kennedy Administration, McNamara was tabbed -- from his post as President of Ford Motor Company -- as Secretary of Defense. He shepherded the US through the botched Bay of Pigs invasion and the subsequent fallout and guided the nation's policy on Vietnam -- incorrectly receiving much of the blame the US military wound up receiving.
As to the former, to paraphrase, he suggested it was mere luck that Russia and the US didn't engage in a nuclear war over Cuba, and the latter, he said, was a failed political state during the administrations of both Kennedy and Johnson.
"External military force cannot reconstruct a failed state, and Vietnam, during much of that period, was a failed state politically. We didn't recognize it as such."
Rarely do public figures these days acknowledge their mistakes. Far fewer learn from them.
In retrospect, his death at 93 is certainly anticlimactic, for sure; it's ironic that the man who led Kennedy and the nation through such turbulent times and outlived so many of his peers was relegated to a footnote in the wake of posthumous Michael Jackson coverage.
Incidentally, there won't be a test, but if you have any interest whatsoever in the Cuban Missile Crisis, Kennedy's assassination and extremely good interpretative historical fiction, the James Ellroy novel American Tabloid (2001) is a must-read. It doesn't do much for McNamara's legacy, and he will likely be remembered with increasing respect the further this nation progresses past the haunted legacy of Vietnam. Unfortunately, by relegating his passing as a mere footnote in the wake of Michael Jackson tribute coverage is extremely unfortunate and somewhat disappointing, but, if nothing else, patently American.
As I mentioned above, while the press spews forth multiple orgasms in the form of Michael Jackson coverage, it seems at once simultaneously wrong and disturbingly appropriate that one of the men who guided us here is regarded with so little significance to the modern America to which he contributed as we glorify relatively insignificant entertainers from the country, or the semblance thereof, which has emerged.
However, McNamara wasn't a second-rate plug-in political hack like Karl Rove or Dick Cheney or Joe Biden. McNamara was a tough and bright guy who took us from the crusty, artificial sheen of the 1950's into the modern era. Not only did he revolutionize the way the military-industrial complex interacted with its civilian counterparts, he took the entire system into the then-emerging world of computers and organized the US military into something not just mighty but relatively efficient.
And of course there are a couple of other issues with which he had direct involvement: Cuba and Vietnam.
While most relatively alert Americans have a concept of these terms within the scope of their nation's history, far too many regard those two nations as, respectively, a tourist destination of the future (or a good source of spanish-speaking major league baseball pitchers) and an excellent source of knowledge for southeast Asian cuisine.
In the Kennedy Administration, McNamara was tabbed -- from his post as President of Ford Motor Company -- as Secretary of Defense. He shepherded the US through the botched Bay of Pigs invasion and the subsequent fallout and guided the nation's policy on Vietnam -- incorrectly receiving much of the blame the US military wound up receiving.
As to the former, to paraphrase, he suggested it was mere luck that Russia and the US didn't engage in a nuclear war over Cuba, and the latter, he said, was a failed political state during the administrations of both Kennedy and Johnson.
"External military force cannot reconstruct a failed state, and Vietnam, during much of that period, was a failed state politically. We didn't recognize it as such."
Rarely do public figures these days acknowledge their mistakes. Far fewer learn from them.
In retrospect, his death at 93 is certainly anticlimactic, for sure; it's ironic that the man who led Kennedy and the nation through such turbulent times and outlived so many of his peers was relegated to a footnote in the wake of posthumous Michael Jackson coverage.
Incidentally, there won't be a test, but if you have any interest whatsoever in the Cuban Missile Crisis, Kennedy's assassination and extremely good interpretative historical fiction, the James Ellroy novel American Tabloid (2001) is a must-read. It doesn't do much for McNamara's legacy, and he will likely be remembered with increasing respect the further this nation progresses past the haunted legacy of Vietnam. Unfortunately, by relegating his passing as a mere footnote in the wake of Michael Jackson tribute coverage is extremely unfortunate and somewhat disappointing, but, if nothing else, patently American.
As I mentioned above, while the press spews forth multiple orgasms in the form of Michael Jackson coverage, it seems at once simultaneously wrong and disturbingly appropriate that one of the men who guided us here is regarded with so little significance to the modern America to which he contributed as we glorify relatively insignificant entertainers from the country, or the semblance thereof, which has emerged.
The Blast from The Future
As per usual, we had a kickin' weekend. We watched the fireworks, we spent the entire weekend together, we hung out with friends, we painted and prepped pottery, we watched Bride Wars and Role Models (I didn't get a chance to copy the Blu-Ray for Rachel Getting Married onto the drive) and, invariably, we both agree with the reading from a gent in SFO that our plans for the near- and not-so-near future are dead-on. The one thing that I regret is that she and I didn't meet ten or more years ago. Had we met so long ago, we could have been approaching our second decade instead of only five years, and neither of us would have had to put up with the trash -- aggravation and the (in)significant others that we did. Which leads me to wonder whether we appreciate one another because we're a perfect fit, or because we realized that we wasted so much of our time with such shitty people? I think the answer is, in both our cases, irrelevant...once you've wiped shit off your shoe, why bother contemplating it or remain irritated you stepped in it in the first place?
Meanwhile, we had a blast at home -- pardon me if that sounds prurient -- and if you want to get a good idea of how much fun we had alone, together, after dark, in the privacy of our little abode, here's something...interactive... (yes, it's NSFW) ;-)
Enjoy, and happy (belated) 4th ;-)
-B-
Meanwhile, we had a blast at home -- pardon me if that sounds prurient -- and if you want to get a good idea of how much fun we had alone, together, after dark, in the privacy of our little abode, here's something...interactive... (yes, it's NSFW) ;-)
Enjoy, and happy (belated) 4th ;-)
-B-
Monday, June 29, 2009
About ten days ago, I committed a cardinal sin, especially for someone who calls himself a Republican: I wasted my time arguing with someone who skips facts and goes right to criticism, name-calling and finger-pointing. Invariably, I find myself in this position with regularity because of several reasons, most prominent of which is due to the fact that I rarely take a position until I've drenched myself in as much fact as possible. In general, whether wrong or right, I find it's better to make an educated guess once I've opted to become educated.
Unfortunately, the scope of this particular argument to which I refer above was Obama's limited reaction to the implosion resulting from Iran's "election" which maintained President Ahmadinejad. Rather than bother rehashing the facts, let's assume that the election was a complete joke, and that two-thirds of the nation of Iran has had it with Ahmadinejad, the symbol of lies, control and dictatorship.
The post-election demonstrations that resulted in bloodshed, unrest and, in some cases, death, was notable in that it was the largest such show of dissent by the people of Iran since 1979, the year there was a revolution which overturned the leadership of that nation.
The original premise that started the discussion was that the people of Iran largely support the West and are not anti-Israel, and are in fact opposed to terrorism and suicide bombing.
And it went downhill from there.
I won't bother rehashing the back and forth, as it was nauseating to experience it first-hand and even moreso when I posted the entire text thereof on a Facebook page. I didn't do so to prove a point or to vindicate myself in bothering making the argument with the other person; I did so to make sure my points were clear and that I wasn't clueless, as I suspected the other person with whom I was arguing.
Once I had a variety of people review the text, I was a bit relieved, because most of the people with whom I shared this reacted in much the same way I did, ostensibly suggesting the person with whom I was arguing had absolutely no clue what she was talking about and was merely spewing anger and hate at Obama for, ostensibly, no reason that any sane person would be comfortable to determine.
In either case, I came across two articles which I think are useful in the context of part of that particular discussion, was the premises I suggested supporting Obama's restrained response to Iran's implosion. Rather than go rushing in as the Big Powerful USA and dictate to the people of Iran the direction their nation should go, which was already perfected in the 70's with disastrous results, which is what my discussion partner demanded Obama do, my supposition was that by allowing the people of Iran to choose their own path -- even if difficult, painful and circuitous -- we would eventually gain better results. Of course, this was met with scoffs, ridicule and more name-calling and derision. Considering that the person with whom I was arguing seems to skip using facts to support her position, it makes a lot of sense that these other options were her main supporting cast.
The first article I came across discusses the notion, put forth by a Afghan cleric, of how suicide bombing in certain situations is acceptable. Never mind that my discussion partner downplayed the fact that most Iranians, who are Muslim, would probably agree with this cleric in his theory. What is most disturbing about this statement is it was offered up by the son of another Afghan cleric who, after decreeing that suicide bombing is wrong, was killed by a Taliban suicide bomber. Beyond the irony of the situation, what's really disturbing is that the son, by way of the article, indicates one very cold, chilling point of view: "suicide bombings in Afghanistan against U.S. and NATO troops are justified because they are invaders killing Muslims."
Next up, this article discloses the fact that Iraq as a nation is celebrating the deadline for American troops to begin their gradual withdrawal from that nation.
What these two articles share in common is that we are still in the business of "doing good," even for people that clearly don't want our help or assistance. Celebrating the US exit from a nation and earmarking our troops for suicide bombings simply because we don't belong involved in their affairs are two pretty stark, strong statements. And frankly, while I don't suggest we turn our back on the strife in Iran or other hot parts of the Middle East, I can't particularly understand why, given these facts, anyone rational or sane -- significant caveats, I know -- would advocate involving ourselves in the natural progression of events in or outside Iran.
Inevitably, I think it's clear that people who want to criticize Obama will do so regardless of the facts or the long-term successes or damage he achieves or inflicts. The fact is, although I'm not a huge supporter of his, I can't really fault much of anything he's been doing. I continue to be leery of his treatment of Israel, but thus far he hasn't done anything to warrant my criticism or scorn, except to say that his mere presence has given license to foolish, right-wing nuts who feel satisfied by exerting their anger and frustration -- for whatever the reason -- and who use him as a target.
In either case, aside from the universal fact that Muslim nations will always detest, resent and be hostile toward and suspicious of any involvement by Western nations in their affairs unless it saves them from a worse fate, what I've learned in all of this is the following: when you ask someone to explain their anger, frustration and/or their overall depression and their answer to same is by insulting or chiding you for asking the question, you're better off ignoring their disdain and advising them to seek qualified professional help. And, much like with many nations in the Middle East, it's advisable to learn from one's mistake(s) and get the hell out of the way and staying out of the way forever.
Unfortunately, the scope of this particular argument to which I refer above was Obama's limited reaction to the implosion resulting from Iran's "election" which maintained President Ahmadinejad. Rather than bother rehashing the facts, let's assume that the election was a complete joke, and that two-thirds of the nation of Iran has had it with Ahmadinejad, the symbol of lies, control and dictatorship.
The post-election demonstrations that resulted in bloodshed, unrest and, in some cases, death, was notable in that it was the largest such show of dissent by the people of Iran since 1979, the year there was a revolution which overturned the leadership of that nation.
The original premise that started the discussion was that the people of Iran largely support the West and are not anti-Israel, and are in fact opposed to terrorism and suicide bombing.
And it went downhill from there.
I won't bother rehashing the back and forth, as it was nauseating to experience it first-hand and even moreso when I posted the entire text thereof on a Facebook page. I didn't do so to prove a point or to vindicate myself in bothering making the argument with the other person; I did so to make sure my points were clear and that I wasn't clueless, as I suspected the other person with whom I was arguing.
Once I had a variety of people review the text, I was a bit relieved, because most of the people with whom I shared this reacted in much the same way I did, ostensibly suggesting the person with whom I was arguing had absolutely no clue what she was talking about and was merely spewing anger and hate at Obama for, ostensibly, no reason that any sane person would be comfortable to determine.
In either case, I came across two articles which I think are useful in the context of part of that particular discussion, was the premises I suggested supporting Obama's restrained response to Iran's implosion. Rather than go rushing in as the Big Powerful USA and dictate to the people of Iran the direction their nation should go, which was already perfected in the 70's with disastrous results, which is what my discussion partner demanded Obama do, my supposition was that by allowing the people of Iran to choose their own path -- even if difficult, painful and circuitous -- we would eventually gain better results. Of course, this was met with scoffs, ridicule and more name-calling and derision. Considering that the person with whom I was arguing seems to skip using facts to support her position, it makes a lot of sense that these other options were her main supporting cast.
The first article I came across discusses the notion, put forth by a Afghan cleric, of how suicide bombing in certain situations is acceptable. Never mind that my discussion partner downplayed the fact that most Iranians, who are Muslim, would probably agree with this cleric in his theory. What is most disturbing about this statement is it was offered up by the son of another Afghan cleric who, after decreeing that suicide bombing is wrong, was killed by a Taliban suicide bomber. Beyond the irony of the situation, what's really disturbing is that the son, by way of the article, indicates one very cold, chilling point of view: "suicide bombings in Afghanistan against U.S. and NATO troops are justified because they are invaders killing Muslims."
Next up, this article discloses the fact that Iraq as a nation is celebrating the deadline for American troops to begin their gradual withdrawal from that nation.
What these two articles share in common is that we are still in the business of "doing good," even for people that clearly don't want our help or assistance. Celebrating the US exit from a nation and earmarking our troops for suicide bombings simply because we don't belong involved in their affairs are two pretty stark, strong statements. And frankly, while I don't suggest we turn our back on the strife in Iran or other hot parts of the Middle East, I can't particularly understand why, given these facts, anyone rational or sane -- significant caveats, I know -- would advocate involving ourselves in the natural progression of events in or outside Iran.
Inevitably, I think it's clear that people who want to criticize Obama will do so regardless of the facts or the long-term successes or damage he achieves or inflicts. The fact is, although I'm not a huge supporter of his, I can't really fault much of anything he's been doing. I continue to be leery of his treatment of Israel, but thus far he hasn't done anything to warrant my criticism or scorn, except to say that his mere presence has given license to foolish, right-wing nuts who feel satisfied by exerting their anger and frustration -- for whatever the reason -- and who use him as a target.
In either case, aside from the universal fact that Muslim nations will always detest, resent and be hostile toward and suspicious of any involvement by Western nations in their affairs unless it saves them from a worse fate, what I've learned in all of this is the following: when you ask someone to explain their anger, frustration and/or their overall depression and their answer to same is by insulting or chiding you for asking the question, you're better off ignoring their disdain and advising them to seek qualified professional help. And, much like with many nations in the Middle East, it's advisable to learn from one's mistake(s) and get the hell out of the way and staying out of the way forever.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Hope is found in the darkest places, but not in Powder Blue
What do you get when you combine these actors -- Jessica Biel, Forest Whitaker, Ray Liotta, Lisa Kudrow, Patrick Swayze and Kris Kristofferson -- in a hotly-anticipated, straight-to-DVD release? You get a long waste of a film called "Powder Blue."
The tagline for this film is "Hope is found in the darkest places." After watching this movie, it's pretty safe to say it wasn't in this film, that's for sure.
First and foremost, anyone reading this may recognize this film as Jessica Biel's first foray into "serious" film; she plays a stripper and single-mother (one character). And yes, I had as difficult a time writing that without breaking out laughing as you did reading it. The film's release was anticipated by men around the world because this marked Jessica Biel's first nude scene. Unfortunately, even her bare boobs didn't bring this back from the abyss.
Disappointment, I think, should be this film's hallmark, and not (merely) because the film fails despite the aforementioned bare boobs. Anne Hathaway had a similarly awful first step towards movie drama mixed with nudity in "Havoc," and this film had a far better cast (and you could understand most of the dialogue herein, whereas in "Havoc" the majority of the film is in 'ebonics' and even if you wanted to know what was being said, there was so little of value there it wasn't worthwhile finding an online Ebonics to English translator. Put another way, shit is shit no matter what language is being spoken.
With a cast of heavy hitters, this film should and could have been better. To be completely fair, it wasn't an awful film, it was a film based on an awful story. "Dark" films are not to be avoided, and this film -- on certain levels -- qualifies as dark. The point being that there's so much depression happening here that by the time the climax arrives, the viewer has, most likely, reached the point of not really caring. I won't spoil any of the theoretical surprises, but I can say that the performances were fairly solid -- Forest Whitaker, for sure -- but the story, which is interspersed between the lives of these disparate, desperate characters, is scattered and it almost seems like the action is following one story of modern pathos to another.
This film's title will be the answer to the trivia question "What movie did Jessica Biel first bare her knockers" -- but the real question should be how an assembly of such talented actors and actresses (and I'm not sure if, or where on, the list Ms. Biel should be) managed to get roped into doing a film this, at best, mediocre.
The tagline for this film is "Hope is found in the darkest places." After watching this movie, it's pretty safe to say it wasn't in this film, that's for sure.
First and foremost, anyone reading this may recognize this film as Jessica Biel's first foray into "serious" film; she plays a stripper and single-mother (one character). And yes, I had as difficult a time writing that without breaking out laughing as you did reading it. The film's release was anticipated by men around the world because this marked Jessica Biel's first nude scene. Unfortunately, even her bare boobs didn't bring this back from the abyss.
Disappointment, I think, should be this film's hallmark, and not (merely) because the film fails despite the aforementioned bare boobs. Anne Hathaway had a similarly awful first step towards movie drama mixed with nudity in "Havoc," and this film had a far better cast (and you could understand most of the dialogue herein, whereas in "Havoc" the majority of the film is in 'ebonics' and even if you wanted to know what was being said, there was so little of value there it wasn't worthwhile finding an online Ebonics to English translator. Put another way, shit is shit no matter what language is being spoken.
With a cast of heavy hitters, this film should and could have been better. To be completely fair, it wasn't an awful film, it was a film based on an awful story. "Dark" films are not to be avoided, and this film -- on certain levels -- qualifies as dark. The point being that there's so much depression happening here that by the time the climax arrives, the viewer has, most likely, reached the point of not really caring. I won't spoil any of the theoretical surprises, but I can say that the performances were fairly solid -- Forest Whitaker, for sure -- but the story, which is interspersed between the lives of these disparate, desperate characters, is scattered and it almost seems like the action is following one story of modern pathos to another.
This film's title will be the answer to the trivia question "What movie did Jessica Biel first bare her knockers" -- but the real question should be how an assembly of such talented actors and actresses (and I'm not sure if, or where on, the list Ms. Biel should be) managed to get roped into doing a film this, at best, mediocre.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Chickenfoot: The More Things Change...
About a year ago, when Van Halen announced a world tour that would -- for the first time since the early 80's -- include David Lee Roth and not Sammy Hagar or Gary Cherone on vocals, it was pretty clear that hell had frozen over yet again. The first over-frozen hell was The Eagles reuniting for 20 farewell tours, and of course seeing Pink Floyd -- David Gilmour and Roger Waters -- on one stage for Live 8 was a similar cooling.
The fallout from the post Sammy Hagar era of Van Halen was the band's long-time bassist, Michael Anthony, left along with Sammy Hagar and the two of them formed a band with the rest of Sammy's old (and new) bandmates called "The Other Ones." That project, to my knowledge, pretty much went nowhere.
Then out of the ether came news that Sammy and Michael joined up with a guy who plays guitar named Joe.
I believe I've mentioned my all-out respect for Joe Satriani in these pages before. If not, I'm remiss.
Joe Satriani is among the most incredible guitarists ever to walk this -- or any other -- planet. He's capable of eliciting and inciting more incredible noise from a six-string than anyone before him, and his way-out-there approach to making music on every level is pretty much indisputable. Put another way, the guy fucking wails. I've seen him live six or seven times throughout venues in NYC from opening to Stevie Ray Vaughan to packing the Beacon to Roseland to other similarly-sized houses.
So when I discovered he was joining with the aforementioned Sammy and Mike and drummer Chad Smith to form a new band called Chickenfoot, I scored a copy of their eponymous debut and I have some reactions, which is to be expected.
First and foremost, anyone who listens to this album is going to instantly compare Joe's work with Eddie Van Halen's. Both are, without question, incredibly talented and solid songwriters. The difference is that Eddie's style is distinct and tunnel-visioned. Basically, there's little chance you'll mistake Eddie Van Halen's playing with someone else's, much in the way you could never mistake Eri Clapton or Jimmy Page or Jimi Hendrix with some miscellaneous axe-slinger.
Joe's style isn't nearly as simple to discern because he's so adept at being all over the place and doing anything that strikes him as doable. The guy's style is eminently fluid and all over the place from song to song, but once he finds a mood, a tone and the aim of a song, he's dead on target. But he can just as easily do a sappy ballad with quasi-acoustic guitar parts to crushing the listener with tone and attack.
So when this collection of 11 tunes reached my iPod I was excited because I like Sammy both as a person and a vocalist, and I apotheosize Joe in every way one musician can another. I had a chance to meet and (sort of) play with him, and there's something quite humiliating knowing that if I spend every hour of the rest of my life dedicated to becoming a better player, I know I'll still never reach the edge of the mountain on which Joe stands at said mountain's peak.
Having said all that, the album -- musically -- cooks. There's really no better way to describe it. For the most part, the guitars are aggressive and loud and the songs are bold and in your face. Sammy's vocals are strong as per usual, and the overall expression of the album is a scowl, without a doubt.
There are some problems, however.
Inasmuch as I'd love to love this album, it's not going to withstand the test of time as a daily listen. Some of the tunes are really solid, but at issue is the questionable lyrics. Essentially, it's -- for better or worse -- the same thing that plagued Sammy's limited tenure as David Lee Roth's replacement. These tunes have some measure of humor but, for the most part, they fall a tad flat with lyrics that should be edgy and instead come across as quasi-generic. No one expects a modern band to write the next Stairway to Heaven or You Can't Always Get What You Want, etc., but a good chunk of these tunes are disposable, lyrically speaking. A lot of it sounds like "5150" -- which is both a compliment and a knock.
Examples of this are "My Kinda Girl," which feels like the Hagar-era Van Halen's version of Donna Summers' "She Works Hard For The Money" mixed with "Summer Nights" or "Dreams." Another Chickenfoot tune, "Oh Yeah," lyrically, is repetitive and leaves the listener thinking to him- or herself, "This song isn't over? Oh no."
Musically this album is tighter than a Bavarian bank vault. Joe's guitars and everything under that umbrella -- tone, the mix, the playing -- is spot on, as per usual. Most of the album, like the Van Halen stuff featuring Sammy, is solid, straightforward rock. There are a couple of limp tunes that can be categorized as "love" songs -- on this record, the aforementioned "My Kinda Girl" is closer to that than anything else, as well as "Learning to Fall" and "Future In The Past." These feel relatively akin to 5150's "Dreams," "Love Walks In" and "Summer Nights" or 0U812's "When It's Love" or "Feels So Good."
Make no mistake, the musicianship here is really tight and solid; it's somewhat akin to shopping for a Ferrari and coming home in a Vette. It's not quite what the doctor ordered.
There are some pretty stellar, noteworthy high points to this album. The disc's first two songs, "Avenida Revolution" and "Soap On A Rope" are both heavy on attitude and wham. "Sexy Little Thing" is a tad generic but a good, grooving tune. And finally, "Down The Drain" is a great Satriani-esque funk that would have been better without the sentiment of lyrics. Had these guys left that last one as an instrumental it would have likely been the best track on the album.
That, in a nutshell, is actually a good description for the entire disc. It's solid, but the lyrics -- not the vocals -- compromise these tunes rather than compliment them. I think Sammy's vocals are pretty much flawless, and pair well with Joe's multi-faceted attack.
Put another way, it's hard to listen to this stuff as a centerpiece for your attention; as background music, it's great. But front and center, it's difficult to not want to hit the track skip button.
An interesting addition to this album, the track "Runnin' Out," is clearly about the environment and conserving what we've got before it -- duh -- runs out. Problem is, the real concern after listening to this disc is that, lyrically speaking, these guys are running out of ideas.
Thankfully Joe's got plenty of packages of strings from which to choose. Let's hope he keeps on burning through them; as long as he does, I'll be listening.
As for this album, I give it a limited recommendation, so long as the listener expects mindless drivel paired with balls-to-the-wall tone and endless riffing. It's very much deja vu; it leaves you with a similar wind-down that Sammy's Van Halen stuff does, as well as pretty much everything he's done before or after. It's worth a listen and, with Joe's guitars driving this project, worth more than just one listen.
Pro or con, caveat emptor.
-B-
The fallout from the post Sammy Hagar era of Van Halen was the band's long-time bassist, Michael Anthony, left along with Sammy Hagar and the two of them formed a band with the rest of Sammy's old (and new) bandmates called "The Other Ones." That project, to my knowledge, pretty much went nowhere.
Then out of the ether came news that Sammy and Michael joined up with a guy who plays guitar named Joe.
I believe I've mentioned my all-out respect for Joe Satriani in these pages before. If not, I'm remiss.
Joe Satriani is among the most incredible guitarists ever to walk this -- or any other -- planet. He's capable of eliciting and inciting more incredible noise from a six-string than anyone before him, and his way-out-there approach to making music on every level is pretty much indisputable. Put another way, the guy fucking wails. I've seen him live six or seven times throughout venues in NYC from opening to Stevie Ray Vaughan to packing the Beacon to Roseland to other similarly-sized houses.
So when I discovered he was joining with the aforementioned Sammy and Mike and drummer Chad Smith to form a new band called Chickenfoot, I scored a copy of their eponymous debut and I have some reactions, which is to be expected.
First and foremost, anyone who listens to this album is going to instantly compare Joe's work with Eddie Van Halen's. Both are, without question, incredibly talented and solid songwriters. The difference is that Eddie's style is distinct and tunnel-visioned. Basically, there's little chance you'll mistake Eddie Van Halen's playing with someone else's, much in the way you could never mistake Eri Clapton or Jimmy Page or Jimi Hendrix with some miscellaneous axe-slinger.
Joe's style isn't nearly as simple to discern because he's so adept at being all over the place and doing anything that strikes him as doable. The guy's style is eminently fluid and all over the place from song to song, but once he finds a mood, a tone and the aim of a song, he's dead on target. But he can just as easily do a sappy ballad with quasi-acoustic guitar parts to crushing the listener with tone and attack.
So when this collection of 11 tunes reached my iPod I was excited because I like Sammy both as a person and a vocalist, and I apotheosize Joe in every way one musician can another. I had a chance to meet and (sort of) play with him, and there's something quite humiliating knowing that if I spend every hour of the rest of my life dedicated to becoming a better player, I know I'll still never reach the edge of the mountain on which Joe stands at said mountain's peak.
Having said all that, the album -- musically -- cooks. There's really no better way to describe it. For the most part, the guitars are aggressive and loud and the songs are bold and in your face. Sammy's vocals are strong as per usual, and the overall expression of the album is a scowl, without a doubt.
There are some problems, however.
Inasmuch as I'd love to love this album, it's not going to withstand the test of time as a daily listen. Some of the tunes are really solid, but at issue is the questionable lyrics. Essentially, it's -- for better or worse -- the same thing that plagued Sammy's limited tenure as David Lee Roth's replacement. These tunes have some measure of humor but, for the most part, they fall a tad flat with lyrics that should be edgy and instead come across as quasi-generic. No one expects a modern band to write the next Stairway to Heaven or You Can't Always Get What You Want, etc., but a good chunk of these tunes are disposable, lyrically speaking. A lot of it sounds like "5150" -- which is both a compliment and a knock.
Examples of this are "My Kinda Girl," which feels like the Hagar-era Van Halen's version of Donna Summers' "She Works Hard For The Money" mixed with "Summer Nights" or "Dreams." Another Chickenfoot tune, "Oh Yeah," lyrically, is repetitive and leaves the listener thinking to him- or herself, "This song isn't over? Oh no."
Musically this album is tighter than a Bavarian bank vault. Joe's guitars and everything under that umbrella -- tone, the mix, the playing -- is spot on, as per usual. Most of the album, like the Van Halen stuff featuring Sammy, is solid, straightforward rock. There are a couple of limp tunes that can be categorized as "love" songs -- on this record, the aforementioned "My Kinda Girl" is closer to that than anything else, as well as "Learning to Fall" and "Future In The Past." These feel relatively akin to 5150's "Dreams," "Love Walks In" and "Summer Nights" or 0U812's "When It's Love" or "Feels So Good."
Make no mistake, the musicianship here is really tight and solid; it's somewhat akin to shopping for a Ferrari and coming home in a Vette. It's not quite what the doctor ordered.
There are some pretty stellar, noteworthy high points to this album. The disc's first two songs, "Avenida Revolution" and "Soap On A Rope" are both heavy on attitude and wham. "Sexy Little Thing" is a tad generic but a good, grooving tune. And finally, "Down The Drain" is a great Satriani-esque funk that would have been better without the sentiment of lyrics. Had these guys left that last one as an instrumental it would have likely been the best track on the album.
That, in a nutshell, is actually a good description for the entire disc. It's solid, but the lyrics -- not the vocals -- compromise these tunes rather than compliment them. I think Sammy's vocals are pretty much flawless, and pair well with Joe's multi-faceted attack.
Put another way, it's hard to listen to this stuff as a centerpiece for your attention; as background music, it's great. But front and center, it's difficult to not want to hit the track skip button.
An interesting addition to this album, the track "Runnin' Out," is clearly about the environment and conserving what we've got before it -- duh -- runs out. Problem is, the real concern after listening to this disc is that, lyrically speaking, these guys are running out of ideas.
Thankfully Joe's got plenty of packages of strings from which to choose. Let's hope he keeps on burning through them; as long as he does, I'll be listening.
As for this album, I give it a limited recommendation, so long as the listener expects mindless drivel paired with balls-to-the-wall tone and endless riffing. It's very much deja vu; it leaves you with a similar wind-down that Sammy's Van Halen stuff does, as well as pretty much everything he's done before or after. It's worth a listen and, with Joe's guitars driving this project, worth more than just one listen.
Pro or con, caveat emptor.
-B-
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