“Mad Men” (Season 1, Episode 3: “Marriage of Figaro” AMC)

It is the early 1960’s, and despite all that has happened since WWII, the rapid cultural changes of the decade have yet to occur. Pregnant woman drink and bad little boys get a firm slap. It is still a time of innocence in many regards; TV is a novelty, electric typewriters are the latest technology, and cigarettes continue to be consumed at an alarming rate. In AMC’s meticulous period piece, “Mad Men,” Matthew Weiner creates a world that is sexy, intriguing and at times disturbing.

This is the world of the Ad men of New York’s famed Madison Ave., and they have it all… or so it seems. Don Draper (Jon Hamm) is a chief executive at Sterling Cooper, the WASPiest Agency in town, and by all outward appearances, he is a prince. Don is rich, handsome, and intelligent with a blonde bombshell of a wife, Betty, played by January Jones. She adores and obeys him, but still he is unhappy. Despite his nice house in the suburbs, his big car, his beautiful wife and kids, Don is seeking something, and hiding something.

In the very first scene of the episode, Don is riding the train to work, examining a famous VW Beetle advertisement, when an “old friend” confronts him. It’s a familiar scene, you bump into an old acquaintance, perhaps you can’t remember their name, and it’s a bit awkward. But Don, though he plays it pretty cool as per usual, is positively mortified. Here we are given our first glimpse into the history of our mysterious main character. Although the man obviously recognizes Don, he refers to him as “Dick Whitman.”

Not even his wife knows who he really is. Nor does she know about his frequent trysts; represented in this episode through an encounter with a beautiful client, a Jewish heiress running a large department store. Although the affair is nothing out of the ordinary for the show (all the men have them), Draper’s extramarital interactions are passionate and romantic. The romance is punctuated with great dialog, deep stares and knowing looks.

“Mad Men” does the early 60’s to a tee. The sex scenes usually fade out with a kiss, and fade back in to the lovers in bed, smoking away. The sets, costumes, and props are meticulously researched and reproduced, right down to the drinks and cigarettes that play such a large role in the characters lives. In one of the worst prop mistakes in the show’s history, Don is seen in this episode guzzling “Fielding” Beer while building his daughter’s playhouse, even though it had not been introduced to the US at the time.

Although it can be overly dramatic at times, “Mad Men” is great show. Looking past the overt themes of money, sex, and power, it explores a myriad of social issues without shoving them down your throat. It doesn’t rely on too much violence or action like so many other shows these days. Instead we are seduced by the scene, the sets, the feel, and the dialog.

“True Blood” (Season 1, Episodes 1-5, HBO)

Halloween was this past weekend, and at no other time was the current Vampire vogue more visible. While vampires are certainly not a new theme for the holiday so beloved by candy-crazed children and drunken frat boys, it seemed that there were greater numbers of fanged-ones than ever on this particular year. We all know who is to blame: Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series of vampire-inspired romance novels (and the films they have spawned) have captured the imagination of teenage girls and mothers alike with their tales of amorous chastity and forbidden affairs.

But Twilight alone is not responsible. With the scent of money in the air, the mainstream media quickly latched onto Ms. Meyer’s success and put out a series of trashy, blood-sucking, and soul-sucking, television programs with fresh and original titles like, “The Vampire Diaries.” As much as HBO would like to avoid comparison with such utterly derivative crap, its own “True Blood” does not do much better.

The show follows Sookie Stackhouse (Anna Paquin), a lovely, young, southern waitress with telepathic abilities that render her unable to date any normal man. Sookie and her friends live in a world in which vampires are not only real, they are crusading for equal rights, with some even “mainstreaming,” or trying to join human society. One such vampire, the charming Bill Compton (Stephen Moyer), has set his sights on young Sookie, and she is equally intrigued due to the fact that she cannot read his thoughts.

The show plays with all the familiar themes of love, sex, religion, and violence; leaning heavily (surprise, surprise) on the sex and violence. Within the first two episodes a girl is murdered after having some very rough, and frankly, gross, sex with both a vampire and Sookie’s brother Jason. The idiot, sex-obsessed, brother is a suspect but is let go despite much evidence against him. This, however, is only the beginning of the absurdity, and soon, another girlfriend of his is killed and he is released once again. No one seems to mind much, and there is no mention of any family for either of the overly sexualized, and now dead, women.

In an attempt to be smart, the HBO series also riffs on the subject of southern prejudice. Many a side character can be heard uttering racist, homophobic, chauvinist, or anti-vampire hate speech. However, there is always a gentleman available to beat up or intimidate the disgusting offender, thus robbing the effect of any realism or lasting meaning.

Of the many side-plots of the show, one has people drinking Vampire blood as a powerful drug/aphrodisiac, while mainstreaming vampires consume a Japanese-made synthetic blood. This kind of antithesis-to-the-usual vampire story is what makes “True Blood” tick, but is often such an obvious play on convention as to become a parody of itself.

Unfortunately, like O Negative to a vampire, “True Blood” is addictive. Most, if not all, plot devices are left unresolved, and each show ends with a climatic scene in which someone is murdered, brutally beaten, or left in otherwise mortal danger. Though it is only human nature to want to discover the outcome, like Sookie’s desire to find out if vampire-human relationships can work out, it is probably best not to find out.

Almost Famous (Directed by Cameron Crowe, 2000)

This may be a narrow point of view, but it seems that almost anybody, no matter how uptight, religious, or conservative, can appreciate the seductive draw of the lifestyle of a 70’s rock star. After all, the rock and roll existence contains all the flourishes of human indulgence: sex, fame, glory, and money. Whom among us do these things not tempt? Perhaps that is why Cameron Crowe’s “Almost Famous” is so appealing at first?

We are drawn into a world of art and beauty, punctuated by overt sexuality and seemingly consequence-free drug use. We are pulled towards an entire “industry of cool” where creativity reigns and love is free. And despite the few negative results that are shown in the film, no one dies, and in the end everyone are still friends.

In the post-70’s world however, most of us understand the trappings of such hippie extravagances and are well aware of the harsh side of a life of hedonism. We have been shown it again and again in lame biopics about Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, and countless others gone too soon. While Crowe does his best to avoid the familiar clichés that come when showing the dark side of the rock star life (the overdose, the band break-up, etc.), he does not always succeed.

If the film’s point is not to completely glorify the sexy excesses of rock stardom, it is instead to make clear the struggle that occurs within a critic in the face of them. Nowhere is this struggle more obvious than in young William, whose maturing ability as a writer becomes compromised by his blatant adoration for the musicians he covers.

Before he ever dreams of his possible assignment to travel with “Stillwater,” William is warned by his mentor, Lester Bangs, that they will try to befriend and corrupt him. Lester’s best advice to him is that in order to be a rock journalist and a true critic, he must be “honest and unmerciful.” This phrase gets straight to the heart of the movie and is central to its message. The words are repeated again at the end of the film to drive the point home.

But between the first time William hears these words and the last time, he does not comprehend them. Like Dorothy in the “Wizard of Oz,” he knows the answer all along but he must still learn it for himself. Only when he has been fully used and his fantasy is near shattered does he realize what he must do. In order to “be a true friend” to the band, he must take Lester’s advice and be brutally honest and authentic in his reporting.

Exalting the band with fabrications and partial truths will only “further the big business of rock and roll” and dilute the purity of a beautiful thing. And no matter how huge the egos that are involved in it, rock ‘n roll as an art form is a thing of beauty. Money does not help it, fame will not nourish it, and drugs… well, drugs might be useful, but the point is that music is art and art has always relied on the truth for inspiration. Everyone knows that the truth is not always pretty, but as Keats said, “Beauty is truth, [and] truth beauty” and “that is all [you] need to know.”

Neil Young "Mirror Ball" (Reprise, 1995)

In 1995, following the release of its third critically acclaimed album, Pearl Jam was starting to waver. Eddie Vedder, the enigmatic singer and leader of the band was “in the midst of a pretty serious stalker problem,” and the rest of the members were restless and lacking direction*. It was at this moment that the godfather of grunge, Neil Young, stepped in to help.

After performing with the band at an abortion rights benefit in Washington, D.C., Young invited the group to back him up on his next album. For Young, the album would be a follow up to 1994’s “Sleeps With Angels,” a hard-edged album dedicated to grunge’s fallen warrior, Kurt Cobain. Just 11 days after the D.C. performance, and armed with only the first two tunes off the album, the supergroup assembled in Seattle to record.

“Mirror Ball” was recorded in four days during the winter of 1995. Except for the first two songs, Young claims that all the material was written at the sessions. And it is not too hard to believe. The songs sound spontaneous: a release of crunching, riff-driven rock, powered by heavy distortion, ringing sustain, and Young's signature lyric style.

Like Neil's other rock albums, “Mirror Ball” features simple chord progressions, basic rhythms, and a rich mixture of grit and beauty. But it also features something more: a talented, young band in its prime. Like Crazy Horse in the early '70s, the members of Pearl Jam were more than willing to do Young's bidding. But unlike Crazy Horse, whose sloppiness characterized the many (great) albums on which they played, Pearl Jam was a hard-hitting, cohesive unit. Their straightforward approach served to stabilize Neil's "wheels have come off the tracks" abandon.

That said, the songs are raw. Recorded live, as is Young's style, the outros of songs feature massive feedback and band banter. At the beginning of "Downtown," an ode to '70s rock and hippie idealism, Neil can be heard saying, "I think I fucked up, let me just play the groove for a minute," before launching into a riff that dominates the five-minute single. Similarly unpolished, "I'm the Ocean" is a dirty rocker that could easily have been on Neil's classic "Zuma" or his later "Living With War."

But while half of the album feels and sounds like classic Neil, the other half takes on a characteristic of its own. "Neil Jam," as the group was known in its live incarnation, constitutes a more complex sound, involving super-grungy layered guitars, keys, pump organ, and whirlwind backup vocals. "Peace and Love," the album's anthem and second single, is the first tune on which Vedder sings and the band sounds original. The track is powerful, with a stronger form, changes in tempo and style, and a dark message that the title belies.

"Throw Your Hatred Down" and "Scenery" are similarly unique and positively epic. With Neil finally relinquishing some of the lead guitar duties, the solos are the most scorching on the album, fusing his simplistic intensity with the Jam's ample ability.

The album strives for authenticity and succeeds: making the listener feel like that lucky fly on the wall at the recording sessions. And while it may not be Young or Pearl Jam's best or most enduring work, "Mirror Ball" serves its purpose as something else: an honest snapshot of grunge through the lens of its progenitor and its greatest champions.

* Weisbard, Eric, et al. "Ten Past Ten". Spin. August 2001: http://www.fivehorizons.com/archive/articles/spin801.shtml

Listen to the Album at: http://music.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=music.artistalbums&artistid=809619&albumid=8669484

Buy the Album at: http://www.amazon.com/Mirror-Ball-Neil-Young/dp/B000002MZ9

Grizzly Bear at the Metro

Grizzly Bear with Beach House, The Metro, Chicago, IL 9/27/09
By Trevor Geiger

It has been a remarkable journey for the members of Grizzly Bear over the past three years. Since releasing their second album, "Yellow House," to critical acclaim in 2006, the indie-rock heroes have gone from virtually unknown to sharing stages with some of the biggest acts in the business including Radiohead, Paul Simon, Feist, and TV on the Radio.

Their latest album, "Veckatimest" (Warp, 2009), sold over 33,000 copies in its first week, debuting at No. 8 on the album chart despite having been leaked on the Internet much earlier. Just recently, famous couple Jay-Z and Beyonce were seen rocking out at a free concert of theirs in New York City.

But as they took the stage at the Metro Sunday night, Grizzly Bear seemed unaffected by all the hype. The four young men that walked on were quiet, humble, and a bit awkward to watch... until they started playing. As the first notes of "Southern Point" sounded, the soft-spoken band members transformed into a single ferocious live being; beautiful vocals pouring out from one, then another, then overpoweringly from all four members. And their name gained new meaning.

I had seen the band play earlier in the day at a taping for an NPR radio show. At that performance the band was stripped down, using only a single acoustic guitar, a single tom, a bass clarinet (surprising cool), and their angelic vocal harmonies. It was a stirring early morning performance; the boys' voices carried the songs and proved the strength of their material.

But that night at the Metro, you could tell that the band was in their element. Each member had his own musical station complete with an astounding array of effects pedals and multiple instruments (among them a Wurlitzer, a drum machine, two clarinets, a mini dulcimer, and a recorder).

Despite guitarist Daniel Rossen’s signature warble, Ed Droste stood out as the most extraordinary singer and the leader of the band. His voice was almost operatic, impressively under control, and wonderfully clear despite thick layers of reverb and delay. In contrast, Daniel’s tone was a quiet, gruff vibrato, the calm at the center of the storm.

Bassist Chris Taylor was that storm: a hurricane, a swirling mass of sound and manic energy. Often disappearing to the floor of the stage to create a looping effects-pedal haze, he was the sonic master of the show. On “Knife,” his high voice seemed to loop around you like a Doppler shift.

Finally, drummer Christopher Bear was the booming thunderclap that held the mass together. Solid in his playing and singing, his clear voice was often altered with wild effects rivaling those of Mr. Taylor.

As the band played through most of Veckatimest, it was easy to see why members of Radiohead have called Grizzly Bear a favorite of theirs. They are a musician’s band: talented, original, and experimental. Even the most accessible of their songs (“Two Weeks,” “While You Wait for the Others”) are challenging and emotionally rewarding.

The show was a big payoff, especially after seeing Grizzly Bear “lite” earlier in the day. The guys were tight and well rehearsed. They maintained an amazing amount of sonic power and clarity for a four-man group. The opener Beach House was a wild new-wavy group with a charismatic lead singer and a love of all things triangle. They were more than appropriate for an opener and did much to establish the mood of the evening. The mood was good.

The Critical Condition of Donna Seaman

Donna Seaman is a books critic for Booklist, WLUW’s “Open Books,” Chicago Public Radio’s “Eight-Forty-Eight,” and the Chicago Tribune. After reading several of her book reviews on her Blog, Under Cover, it is clear that she loves literature and takes her job very seriously. In TimeOut Chicago’s article Critical Condition, she is an advocate of passion, education, and professionalism in her field, but the latter almost to a fault. By the end of the article one begins to suspect that she views herself as much a reporter as an artist.

Donna begins the conversation with a plea that to be a critic, one needs “passion, first and foremost.” But before everyone can agree with her on this key aspect of good critical assessment, she immediately backtracks into the realm of journalism, stating that despite one’s passion, they should “sustain enough distance to see a work in context.”

So which is it, passion or distanced logic? Captain Kirk or Mr. Spock? Donna continues to walk this line as she explains that passion must “lead to discipline.” She sees integrity and trust as “crucial,” stating that a critic needs a “track record,” and that they must “stay with it… without compromising standards.”

But she doesn’t state what these standard are, leaving one to assume she’s speaking of a kind of journalistic objectivity. When pressed about this referenced objectivity (Anne Holub: “are you saying critics have to like everything?”), Ms. Seaman retracts, but points out that when slamming a work, one should be “sharp and precise.”

Clarity and precision are a theme throughout her responses in the interview. “Be clear about what it is that matters in a work of art,” she intones. In her reviews, Seaman is clear about what matters to her, however, one would be hard pressed to find a review of hers in which she “slammed” anything, or perhaps she only chooses to review books that she likes on her Blog.

Ms. Seaman struggles throughout the interview to define herself as a professional while making sure she is viewed as an artist. She bemoans the state of modern criticism, saying “creative, thoughtful work is undervalued,” but at the same time defending the merits of professional, published work which is subject to “constraints regarding form, length, [and] voice.”

Surely the job of a critic is to balance the two sides; part journalist, part poet, they must find a middle ground. In the end, Donna is revealed as the idealist she is, relishing the conversational tone of Blogs and user-generated reviews while lamenting the loss of professionalism and the paycheck that once came with it. She speaks of the artist’s need to express one’s opinion, but also the importance of advocating for work and “exposing the workings of the mind.”

Reading her reviews, one finds she is probably more of an artist then she would like to believe. Reveling in and advocating for the literature she loves and ignoring that which she does not, her education is clear while her critical eye and professionalism not so much.

TimeOut's Article Critical Condition can be found at http://chicago.timeout.com/articles/features/25801/critical-condition

Reviewing Reviewers: Pitchfork vs TimeOut on the new Grizzly Bear

Reading a review of your favorite band, album, or song, can sometimes be more infuriating than insightful. While listening to a critic bash, mislabel, or poorly describe your cherished music, one is left to wonder, "Were they listening to the same thing as me?"

But alas, music (and art in general) is subjective. And such is the job of the critic; to subject works of art to his/her subjective point of view. In doing so, it is no wonder that diverse opinions, observations, and emotions are evoked. As individuals, each critic is more than entitled to their views/ideas, just as readers are entitled to disagree with them should they feel differently.

However, to accurately assess a piece of art, and in presenting that assessment to the public, a critic has a duty to take him/herself out of the picture. This doesn't mean objectivity, for who among us can boast that? What this means is a genuine attempt to take one’s ego out of the landscape of the review. The success or failure of this "ego-removal" very often differentiates the good review from the complete piece of crap.

An examination of this distinction can be seen through two reviews of Grizzly Bear's new single release of "While You Wait For the Others" featuring Michael McDonald of the Doobie Brothers on vocals. The strange pairing, sure to illicit varying responses, brought out the best and worst of two reviewers, one David Raposa of Pitchfork.com and Brent DiCrescenzo of TimeOut Chicago Magazine (respectively).

Raposa of Pitchfork begins his review with a quote from another reviewer, setting the conversational tone and acknowledging the most important fact about this version of the song for anyone who has not heard it yet, that "Michael McDonald... could not be more different than original singer Daniel Rossen." Grizzly Bear fans beware.

But Riposa goes on to describe in great detail the virtues of the elder McDonald's version of the Grizzly Bear tune. Pointing out that he has a hard time selling some of the more tender lines, he also makes it clear where and when McDonald's "soul holler" works for the song, namely, the climactic ending where he is really able to use his famous pipes.

Riposa's review reads like a short story about the song with McDonald as lead character. It covers the ups and downs of the song's dynamics, references the "frustration" in the lyrics, and the "frenzy" of the songs ending. It also does a great job of explaining just why McDonald is singing lead for Grizzly Bear anyway.

DiCrescenzo's review on the other hand reads like the story of BD's opinion about Grizzly Bear and Michael McDonald. Within the first two sentences you can tell he's not a big fan of the band when he says they're "fun to ridicule." He further mocks the band by implying that here they are "where they belong -- as backup singers." Finally, you can tell he does not understand the band when he ends the review with the sentence "Grizzly Bear is the new Seals & Croft."

In between, BD offers up humorous wordplay in the place of descriptive language. He refers to the addition of McDonald on vocals as "putting white chocolate in the Grizz's peanut butter." Besides being non-descriptive, this sentence would have made more sense the other way around. DiCrescenzo goes on to call the acclaimed album "wallpapery" and tell you that with McDonald on vocals, the band can finally "look you in the eye." What does any of this actually mean? Not a lot. In the end, DiCrescenzo review of the song comes across as self-serving and indifferent, doing more to amuse than educate the reader.

Read the Reviews at:

http://pitchfork.com/reviews/tracks/11483-while-you-wait-for-the-others-ft-michael-mcdonald/

and

http://chicago.timeout.com/articles/music/78403/tracks-9-10-2009-grizzly-bear-feat-michael-mcdonald-and-massive-attack

Listen to the song at:

http://hypem.com/track/899898/Grizzly+Bear-While+You+Wait+for+the+Others+(feat.+Michael+McDonald)