Tag: reviews

“Yes, Chef” – The Bear

September 27, 2022 / DB

Every so often I bust out a post dedicated to a show or movie I have watched as soon as I see it rather than wait for my monthly Media edition. Last weekend I watched an entire season of a streaming service exclusive that rocked my world. Yes, I watched the latest season of Cobra Kai last week. But this post is not about that.

This post is about The Bear.

I caught some of the buzz for The Bear over the summer. But since we didn’t have Hulu at the time, I added it to my list of shows to watch and moved on. I understood it was about a family restaurant in Chicago, but, honestly, I thought it was a documentary rather than a scripted dramedy.

So I was a bit surprised as I watched episode one, and it took me a few minutes to find my footing. But once I did, I was blown away.

The Bear is one of the best shows I’ve watched this year, right up there with Barry and Better Call Saul. Hell, it is instantly one of the best shows I’ve ever watched.

The characters are all so well developed, even in the very tight window of eight, half-hour episodes. You quickly understand who they are and develop strong feelings for each of them.

That ability to squeeze a lot into a little time is a common theme throughout the season. There are plenty of artsy moments, showcases for the culinary skills used by the restaurant’s crew, for example. These moments are satisfyingly brief, so they neither impede the story nor seem pretentious.

The camerawork is off-the-charts great. For starters I’m not sure how they filmed in a tight kitchen. There’s often barely room for the chefs let alone squeezing in cameras and crew, lighting, etc. Second, the show is loaded with exceptionally long shots. I didn’t go back to see if any tricks were used to make multiple shots appear to be single shots or different takes that were stitched together. Several of these scenes feature long monologues or dialogue, so you naturally wonder how many takes it took to get it all onto tape. If you’re into this kind of thing you will geek out on these scenes.

The acting is superb across the entire cast, but Jeremy Allen White just destroys in the lead role of Carmen Berzatto. His extended meltdown in episode seven and his monologue at the AA meeting in episode eight are two of the most stunning acting performances I can recall.

I love the arc of the season in general, and how the show runners present it. Your typical show will spend episode one giving introductions of all the players and backstory on how they got to this point in their lives. In The Bear, we get thrown right into the story with no explanation. Those details are slowly revealed over the entire season. In fact, just minutes before episode eight’s big reveal we are still learning things from the past that set that moment up.

Another wonderful thing about the show is the pacing of the story. We get this kitchen crew, a mix of established faces with established routines and two newcomers who shake things up, and how they battle each other to find common ground until they have a series of big wins that brings them together. Then shit quite literally goes insane and wrecks everything they’ve built together in episode seven, “Review,” and episode eight, “Braciole.”

Oh, man, “Review”! That has to be one of the greatest 20 minutes in TV history. Just a bat-shit crazy, four-alarm, total, mind-blowing meltdown. It will make your chest tighten and pulse rise as you watch everything fall apart. Each element in those 20 minutes is perfect, but what really makes the episode shine is how it is limited to those 20 minutes. There’s no long setup before or cooldown after. We are thrown into the disaster’s midst, watch Carmen and his crew attempt to deal with it, and then get yanked out.

The Bear is a brilliant piece of art. It is a nearly flawless show anchored by terrific writing, a killer soundtrack, and unforgettable performances by its cast. There are hilarious moments, beautiful moments, incredibly intense moments, and moments that can make you cry. It has everything.

Oh, and how did I finally get to the show? When the college football season began I remembered that our Verizon plan offers the entire Disney+ package for free, so I got ESPN+ fired up for the first KU game. It took me until last week to get Hulu going again.

Farewell to Saul

August 18, 2022 / DB

Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould faced a huge challenge as they brought their series Better Call Saul to an end. Not just because of the normal pressures that come with wrapping a critically acclaimed and beloved (by those who watched it) show. But also because of how they ended Breaking Bad, one of the best series endings of recent memory.

After thinking about Monday’s series finale for a few days, I am comfortable saying they absolutely met that challenge.

G&G have taken all kinds of risks over the 14 years they’ve been behind Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. They’ve certainly moved the art form forward, setting a standard that only a few programs have come close to meeting since.

One of their greatest accomplishments has to be the choices they made in ending BCS.

(A quick note for those who have not watched: “Saul Goodman” is a professional name taken on by Jimmy McGill, the show’s main character, played by Bob Odenkirk. The character took on a third name, Gene Takovic, in the part of the show that takes place after Breaking Bad. For our purposes, I will refer to this person only as Saul.)

For example, I mentioned in my July Media post that I watched up through episode nine and then decided to take a pause. That was partially to catch my breath after one of the most impactful episodes in the series’ history, one in which Saul and Kim Wexler’s elaborate gambit to discredit attorney Howard Hamlin came to a shocking end, their nemesis Lalo Salamanca met his demise, and Wexler finally caved under the pressure of life with Saul. It was also because I was nearly caught up and wanted a few episodes to stack up in the DVR so I could binge them leading into the finale. I had no idea that was the perfect spot to stop, as the world that BCS had occupied over its six seasons effectively ended when that episode faded to black.

What came next was a brilliant leap forward. G&G have hinted since the show’s opening moments of what happened to Saul after Breaking Bad. A few times a season we were treated to a cold open that featured him working in a Cinnabon in Omaha under the name Gene Takovic, always shot in black and white. Was he in witness protection? Hiding on his own? We were never told. But every season there were a few breadcrumbs to let us know the show would eventually land there.

And that was where most of the final four episodes took place. Episode ten was a fantastic dive into an elaborate caper that Saul/Gene was planning with two associates. The final three played out the ramifications of that caper, eventually leading to him being captured after a character played by CAROL FUCKING BURNETT turned him in.

From there we got the resolution of Saul’s story, complete with some flashbacks to the Breaking Bad world.

I had a hard time watching these last three episodes because of where they seemed to be going. By the early moments of episode 13, Saul seems like a horrible person that I suddenly did not want a happy ending for. He’s done all kinds of shady shit over six seasons. He always seemed to have a heart of gold, though, and while a soft landing was unlikely, there was still that hope that we would at least see some of that better side in the person he was at the show’s end. Not only did he seem lost, he seemed violent, desperate, reckless, and without any redeeming qualities.

Until G&G gave us one more twist. As Saul negotiates with the Feds to avoid hard time for the litany of crimes he committed while in the service of Walter White, he sacrifices it all to protect Wexler.

Finally the closing scene…man was that good. We see that Saul is doing alright in prison. His years of aiding the less fortunate and those who are probably headed to lockup earning him a measure of protection. His experience at Cinnabon seems to have landed him a solid job in the prison bakery. And then Wexler comes for a visit. They share a cigarette and a few words, but basically stand and look at each other, their affection for and loyalty to each other unspoken. They share a look from across the yard as she leaves. And our final image is of Saul disappearing from her site as she leaves.

You can throw a lot of over-analysis at a scene like that. I thought it was beautifully shot, perfectly understated, and honored everything those two characters were about. It was also emblematic how how BCS was different from Breaking Bad. BB ended with insane violence and death. BCS closes with Saul and Kim finding some sense of peace after all of it. Saul got what he deserved, 80 or so years in the slammer, maybe less with good behavior, but was able to protect the love of his life in the process. Wexler got a fresh start and an opening to make a difference as she discovered a legal aid office in her new home of Florida.

I don’t know if it was an absolutely perfect ending, but it felt right and earned.

Thus ends one of the great epics in TV history. Gilligan and Gould gave us so many great characters, stories, and scenes over the past 14 years and 11 seasons. I would rate BCS slightly ahead of BB, but that could just be recency bias. I certainly remember more scenes from Saul than BB, which helps in my ratings. The relationship between Saul and his brother Chuck, and all the drama there, carried the first half of the series. Their courtroom battle and Chuck’s stunning death were some of the series’ high points. I will forever hold Wexler dressing down Lalo Salamanca late in season five as one of my all time favorite scenes. Plus dozens more examples.

All pretty good for a show that A) seemed like a joke when first floated as a BB sequel, B) was originally supposed to be a 30 minute comedy rather than another hour-long drama. It carved out its own, unforgettable niche while also expanding the BB timeline on both sides of the original show.

A Day at the Cinema – Top Gun: Maverick

June 21, 2022 / DB

It’s damn hard to make a good sequel. Think of how many absolutely ass ones have polluted our cinema and entertainment room screens. So when one hits all the right notes, it feels like a triumph.

And when you do it nearly 40 years after the original, you’ve really pulled off a miracle.

I took C and L to see Top Gun: Maverick last week. We all loved it. I think C liked it the most, and it was her second time seeing it!

I watched the original Top Gun a few nights before, so all of its elements were fresh in my head. I loved how the creative crew behind Maverick sprinkled plenty of callbacks to the original throughout the new flick, but never so heavily that they weighed it down. That said, having the opening scene be a near shot-for-shot repeat of the original, complete with the same music, was pretty genius. It sucked in us Gen Xers and, hopefully, blew away new viewers.

When I re-watched the original I was struck by how cheesy it was, but how it embraced its cheesiness. Tom Cruise especially seemed in on the joke, and if he never exactly winked at the audience, you felt like he could at any moment. That gave it a playfulness that made the cheese tolerable.

A lot of that cheese got removed from Maverick. That, along with better writing and a more impactful emotional element, made the movie smarter and better than the original.

Afterwards I read through a series of reviews and thought pieces I had stored away. One, from The Vulture, struck a chord with me. In it Bilge Ebiri wrote of how unexpectedly emotional Maverick was. I realized that I felt that myself while watching, although I was thinking about it in a slightly different way than Ebiri.

While watching the original, I was a little overwhelmed by realizing that Tom Cruise was 24 when it came out. He’s done so much and been such a massive part of American pop culture since then, and it was all just starting for him back in the summer of 1986. That, more than me being 15 when it first came out and I was obsessed with it, made me feel my age. Kids in the ‘80s wanted to be Tom Cruise/Maverick because of the possibilities they represented. Today we all probably still want to be Tom Cruise, but more because he looks and moves like he’s 20 years younger than his biological age.

I wonder if younger viewers sensed the same emotional weariness in Maverick that I sensed. The movie lays out his remaining guilt over Goose’s death, his attempts to sidetrack Rooster’s career, his sadness about Iceman’s health/death, and his understanding that his career as a Navy pilot is nearly over. As a Gen Xer, it’s easy to project that unease onto my own life and the changes that come as we move into middle age.

OK, enough of that heavy stuff.

This was a remarkable movie to watch. I had heard going in that very little CGI was used in the flying scenes. So I marveled at the shots, thinking them 100% real. After I got home I read that, in fact, there was plenty of CGI, but the flight scenes still had a healthy amount of video shot from actual F/A–18s. That knowledge didn’t decrease the impact of those scenes very much. The moments when you see the actor’s faces contorting from real G-forces were incredible. Another thing that stuck out in the original was how tight all the dog fights were shot. You often had no broader context for what was happening, just a series of quick, tight shots from the involved jets. In Maverick there were plenty of tight shots, but also a lot that were shot wider to give you a better sense of space and what the jets were capable of. I assume that’s just better technology that allowed that, but it certainly added to the realism and impact of Maverick

Did they have to rip off every Star Wars movie that involved blowing up a Death Star, or Death Star-like object, though? My least favorite aspect of the movie, even if it made for some amazing visuals.

It also made me wonder, “Why couldn’t cruise missiles do this way, way easier?” Or some combination of drones and cruise missiles? Or missiles shot from higher altitudes? But that wouldn’t give us a very cool movie now, would it?

The Val Kilmer scenes made me sad. Not for the character but for the real man. I’ve been meaning to watch the documentary he made about his life for over a year. I need to get to that.

I offer my next statement fully aware of Kelly McGillis’ comments about why she was not asked to be in Maverick. Women, and especially women in Hollywood, face pressures men don’t face as they age, and it sucks that, because she looks like most women who are in their mid–60s look, she had no chance to reprise her role as Charlie.

That said…

Jennifer Connelly has aged very well. Very well. And she’s a year older than me. Damn.

If we can’t have Charlie, bringing back the mythical Penny Benjamin was a pretty great move.

Beach football was a nice replacement for beach volleyball, especially since Maverick used it as a team-building effort, not just a testosterone fest. I laughed at how all the guys were shot shirtless, oiled up, and in good light, while the two female pilots were wearing standard workout gear and generally stayed in the shadows.

That brings me to another difference. Top Gun was all about swaggering masculinity, amped up to comical levels. Maverick certainly has swagger, but it felt less aggressively masculine. And yet I don’t think it got into any territory that a serious commentator would lament it was neutered by “wokeness.” Although since we have few serious commentators anymore, I’m sure plenty of people have bemoaned its honest reflection of its time.

One area where I though the original was better was in its humor. I still laughed out loud at several lines in Top Gun when I re-watched it; I just chuckled a couple times during Maverick. I don’t know if that’s more a statement on me or the movie, to be honest.

Top Gun: Maverick isn’t high cinema or anything. It is a visually stunning, surprisingly emotional, and completely entertaining 130 minutes of film.

A-

You Have to Find Your Own Way: Cobra Kai, Season Four

January 6, 2022 / DB

I knocked out season four of Cobra Kai over the weekend. Six episodes Saturday, four Sunday. Solid work.

I liked it, although I thought it took a long time to find a good rhythm and flow. I hoped there would be a payoff for a rather slow start, and, thank goodness, there was. In fact, the last three episodes were as good as any in the total run of Cobra Kai.

We were all giddy coming into this season at the prospect of Johnny Lawrence and Daniel LaRusso joining forces to train their students to compete against John Kreese’s Cobra Kai at the All Valley Tournament.

Just typing All Valley Tournament gives me goosebumps!

As we meandered through the first seven episodes, I got the feeling that the writers were so stuck on trying to make that partnership shine, at least in TV terms, that they lost elements that had made past seasons work so well.

Or, perhaps, they just knew where they wanted to get to and couldn’t make the path to that finish work as well as the finish itself.

Also, maybe my expectations for how they would interact were too high. I wanted so badly for it to be all about them that I forgot what makes this show so good: how there is always a counter-balance for any plot line or relationship. The writers would have to fundamentally change the show if it become the Daniel and Johnny Karate Hour.

To my eyes, Johnny was a little neutered this season. The first three seasons every episode had moments with Johnny that made me laugh out loud. He still had his moments this season, but they felt more spaced out and sometimes less funny as in the past. The funniest Johnny moment of season four was his training montage, when he started kicking waves and yanking kids off of scooters. That was some funny shit. Searching for “how to tell my student I’m banging his mom” was pretty awesome, too. “Learning feminism,” and “Do I look like I sit to pee?” were other favorite lines of mine. I’m all for Johnny maturing but not at the expense of his sense of humor.

I never saw The Karate Kid Part III, so Terry Silver was new to me. Maybe that affected how I viewed this season, too, as the callbacks and references to that movie were lost on me.

Every time either Silver or Krees worked out or fought someone, I kept expecting one of them to drop dead of a heart attack. These guys were in Vietnam and we’re supposed to believe they can engage in rigorous martial arts ass kicking in the 2020’s? I’ll believe a lot of bullshit in this show, but that’s too much.

I also continue to refuse to believe that Yasmine is really into Demetri. It is nauseating and setting up a lot of real-life geeks for disappointment when the hottest girl at their schools don’t suddenly fall for them.

All the overt flashbacks to the original movies are getting old. It feels like by season four those should be appear much less often. I did like that pretty much everyone, including Samantha, called out Daniel for being so hung up on Mr. Miyagi. We get it, he changed your life. But, dude, can you give it a rest? Based on how little time Daniel spends at the dealership, I’m starting to think Amanda was the real force behind any business success Daniel had. Maybe we need to dive into her backstory more to find the real reason the LaRusso Auto Group is the valley’s first choice for fine vehicles and auto service.

The show continued to do a wonderful job pitting characters against each other in new and entertaining ways, with constantly shifting rivalries and hurt feelings. Best example this season was the connection between Daniel and Miguel, which threatened Johhny’s relationship with his student. It’s basic, soap opera shit. But this show is really good at it.

With that in mind, I think the writers could have pushed the Amanda-Tory storyline harder. It’s just a different version of the interactions between Daniel, Johnny, Robby, and Miguel, but it had opportunities to turn into something really interesting.

From doing some stalking, errrr, “research” on Instagram, it appears that Vanessa Rubio and Courtney Henggeler hang out a little bit outside of the show. I bet that’s a good time…

Kyler Park, with his “rich Asian kid who talks like he’s from the ‘hood” act kills me.

Robby and Tory were devastatingly attractive at prom. I think my windows fogged up a little bit. I still have some Dirty Old Man issues watching Peyton List as a woman. So I’m not going to say much else.

It did make me chuckle that Robby and Tory could do a flawless Tango without ever having danced together before. This is the fake shit I can buy into.

The All Valley Tournament episodes were awesome. And, let’s be honest, the best character of the year was the guy who was the announcer for the matches. Another example of how the show isn’t afraid to be cheesy and almost always finds the humor in those moments instead of turning the audience off.

“I know who I am now. The guy who’s gonna win this whole fucking thing.” Eli Mother Fucking Moskowitz, ladies and gentlemen, with the line of the entire series. I literally raised my fists and shouted when he said that. Homeboy called his shot and delivered on it.

That was the only downside to how the final matches were ordered. With the boys final first, and Cobra Kai only needing one win to clinch the team title, you knew that Eli would beat Robby. Still, they made that fight, and the girls final, hella interesting, as Cali kids would say. Terrific action, camerawork, and drama in all the matches of the tournament.

If Daniel LaRusso wasn’t already insufferable enough, he has the balls to walk over to Robby and try to tell him how to fight before the final. What a dick. He can fuck right off. Daniel is the worst. I was glad when Samantha asked him why his way had to be the right way and then went out and fought her fight on her terms.

Poor, confused, emo Miguel. Kid is trying to get through life and this season seemed like an endless series of progressively bigger disappointments to him. If a single noise summed up his season, it would be a long, sad sigh. When a drunken Johnny called him Robby after Miguel told him he loved him, it looked like he was going to crumble into a million pieces.

The aftermath of the finals was terrific: Tory having her moment of glory ruined by seeing Silver pay off the ref, Miguel heading to Mexico City to search for his dad, Johnny and Robby hugging, Chozen arriving to help Daniel counter Cobra Kai, Krees getting arrested, and Anthony getting his ass beat. Throw those together with all the normal drama and season five is set up to be an absolute monster.

I didn’t go back and re-watch the earlier seasons before season four, so I can’t make a good comparison or ranking of them. Overall, I would give season four a B+, with the qualifier that the last three episodes were an A+. There are way worse ways to spend ten hours of your life.

Review: Pearl Jam – Ten, The Legacy Edition

August 27, 2009 / DB

In advance of Pearl Jam’s new album, due next month, I offer a review of their recent remastered and remixed release of their debut album,

Sometimes I wish that we could access all the information in our brains as computers would, so we could track the metadata of our lives. Am I the only one who wants to know what song I’ve heard the most (I’m betting “Happy Birthday” or some Christmas standard), what movie I’ve seen the most (Something starring Chevy), etc.?

If you set aside birthday and holiday music, I imagine that Pearl Jam’s Ten would pop up as the album I’ve listened to the most. Between hearing the singles on the radio for 17 years, seeing the videos for the first three singles for a year or so, listening to the album constantly for 18 months, and then hearing the songs on the dozen or so live CDs and DVDs I own, the first 11 songs that Pearl Jam released almost certainly qualify as the collective work I’ve spun most often.

That said, I would imagine I am like most dedicated Pearl Jam fans: while I consider the album to be their classic work, I don’t consider it to be their best.* And, to be honest, after 17 years I’m kind of sick of most of the songs. Thus, when the band released a remastered version of the album last March, I didn’t rush out to get it. I’m always leery of remastered versions of classic albums. Even if the band is trying to make it “sound the way we meant it to sound,”** the differences are often too subtle to notice or distracting. When you’ve listened to something for nearly 20 years, it’s hard to hear it in a new way.

** I think most hard-core Pearl Jam fans would list either Vs. or Vitalogy as their favorite. I bounce back-and-forth between those two.

*** Isn’t that what every band says?

However, a couple friends who are also big fans picked up the new version and suggested that I would probably like it more than I expected, especially if I focused on the second disk, dubbed Ten Redux. Unlike the first disk, which is a straight remaster of the 1991 album, Ten Redux is a remix of the original songs. It’s not just cleaned up, but deconstructed and then reconstructed.

I noticed that the two-disk Legacy version of the updated Ten was available at Target for $10, so I picked it up a couple weeks ago. I’ve been listening to Ten Redux a lot since then. My friends did not lie: it’s pretty good.

The changes are indeed subtle, but certainly noticeable. The elements of each song that blended together in the past are now isolated, giving the album a live-in-the-studio feel. There is an energy, a shimmer that wasn’t on the original disk, but the fundamental sound remains the same. Take a song like “Porch,” for example. It was a rocker to begin with. With the remix, though, it’s cranked up to 11.

This new sense of separation affects the vocals, as well. There is an edge to Eddie Vedder’s voice that was missing on the ‘91 disk. For a collection of songs that is already full of anger and emotion, that edge adds a new sense of drama. This is most noticeable in “Alive,” where you can almost see Vedder spitting the lyrics out between gritted teeth.

The process doesn’t always work, however. “Jeremy”* is the one song where the changes are almost too distracting. In the final third of the song, the vocal that was most prominent on the original mix has been reduced, the backing vocal brought forward, and the result takes away from what had been a brilliant moment of musical chaos.

** Can we talk about “Jeremy” for a minute? It is famously the song that caused Pearl Jam to stop making videos. Legend has it that another musician told Vedder that the video ruined the song for him. “It’s too artsy,” Eddie was told. Added to the band’s desire to pull back from the media onslaught, they cited the video’s massive success as a reason to cease making further videos. They wanted people to remember their songs, not the images associated with them.

Fair enough. But that’s a shame. “Jeremy” is a stunning video. One of the greatest ever. Artsy? Sure. But freaking great art. It remains one of the iconic moments in 90s music.

I do understand the band’s view, though, about wanting to be remembered for their music. If you take away the video, the meaning of “Jeremy” can be ambiguous. How exactly did Jeremy speak in class? Is that a metaphor? Or is he a kid who never said anything and literally opened his mouth and let words come out for the first time? While some forced editing by MTV kept some ambiguity in the video (They wouldn’t show Jeremy with the gun in his mouth. Without that image, the next scene, in which his classmates are frozen, covered in blood, it isn’t obvious whether he shot them or himself.) the meaning has been narrowed down significantly. I suppose that’s one good thing about MTV turning into reality show hell and rarely showing videos anymore: we can assign our own meanings to songs rather than having one forced upon us.*

Another downer is the bonus material. Pearl Jam has always been a big B-side band. Their Lost Dogs collection, released in 2003, brought together most of their best B-sides and unreleased tracks. Between the single B-sides and Lost Dogs, most obsessive fans own just about everything that was recorded in 1991-92. In an effort to offer something new, there are some early mixes of “Breath” and “State Of Love And Trust,” which both appeared on the Singles soundtrack. Neither version compares to what ended up in the movie. Other bonus tracks are those that never made it past the embryonic phase. But only a minor quibble since most people who care already own most of the non-album material.

Casual listeners may not notice much of a difference between Ten and Ten Redux. But those of us who have memorized every growl and guitar flourish and drum fill will find lots of new sounds to commit to memory. Most of those sounds are good. And for $10, it’s worth it if you are or were once a fan. It’s helped me to remember that fabulous summer of 1992, when the music world was changing, and fall back in love with one of my favorite albums ever.

❖

The Power Of The Avocado

May 9, 2006 / DB

Pearl Jam’s self-titled, eighth studio album arrived in my mailbox a little over a week ago. After many spins of both the disk and the iPod’s hard drive, I can agree with the majority of professional reviewers: it’s a damn fine album. Calling it a return to form is problematic: it matches the intensity of those early albums, but it isn’t groundbreaking and genre-defining the way they were. I’ve always been a fan and thus have always found something positive in even their most uneven releases. But, the last two disks were not ones that stuck with me beyond the first month or so. Some of that had to do with differences in my life style and listening habits, but also because the albums just weren’t as strong as the early albums in Pearl Jam’s discography. This latest one, though, sounds like one that will stick with me for a long time.

For the bulk of PJ’s career, it was Eddie Vedder’s voice and lyrics that carried the band. The music was always good, and had improved tremendously over time. But you always listened to what Eddie was saying and how he said it first and foremost. The latest album, for the first time ever, is carried by the music. There are some good lyrics, notably those in “Unemployable” which has been hailed as a Springsteen-esque tale of the plights of the workin’ man. I can’t make a complete assessment yet because very few of the lyrics have stuck with me so far. Eddie, though, is back to singing with the power that made his voice the most compelling of the 90s. The meandering mumblings of recent albums have largely been left behind.

What makes the album, though, is the music. This is by far the band’s best effort as musicians. Every tune sound fully formed, the product of musicians totally in tune with each other and free to explore the studio space, as Bruce Dickinson would say. In each song, there’s a point where the music just takes over and I no longer care what Eddie is saying. Rather, his voice becomes another instrument that blends with the layers of guitars, Matt Cameron’s solid drumming, and Jeff Ament’s amazing bass play. The music is aggressive, muscular, and intense. The change is pronounced enough that I almost buy into the theories that the band intentionally held back on their final two albums under their Epic contract and saved the good stuff for their new label. Almost.

There are some first rate tracks on the disk. Opening single “World Wide Suicide” is as good as anything they’ve done since “Corduroy” in 1994. “Unemployable” grows and grows and grows on you until you can’t escape it. “Gone” fits into the PJ car song slot nicely: subdued and reflective where “Rearviewmirror” was angry and escapist and “MFC” was cathartic and joyous. The remarkable closing track, “Inside Job,” written by Mike McCready, sounds like nothing the band has ever done before. And unlike some of their “experimental” songs of the past, it works completely. Perhaps my favorite moment of the disk comes at the 6:09 mark of “Job.” The guitars kick in and Eddie unleashes a passionate, classic Vedder “YEEEEAAHHHH!!!” Unlike the early 90s “YEEEEAAHHH!!!!”s, though, this isn’t to fill space where his lyrics didn’t fit the music. It’s a genuine, emotional reaction to the music. In fact, the first time I heard it, I was ready to yell myself before he beat me to the punch. Finally, it’s notable that there are no throw-away tracks on this disk. Famously cranky, the band often puts one or two awful tracks on each disk to scare away the casual fans. Then, six months later, true fans are treated so wonderful B-sides that got cut in favor of the crap tracks (Or worse, they held onto the “lost” tracks for over a decade until releasing their phenomenal <a href=”http://www.pearljam.com/releases/release.php?release=LostDogs&type=None”>Lost Dogs</a> rarities compilation in ’03). No crap on this one, although I bet they’ve still got a few tasty B-sides stocked away somewhere.

If you never liked Pearl Jam, this album won’t change your mind about them. If you hung onto them deep into the 90s but then lost touch, this album might bring you back into the fold. And if you never lost the faith, your patience has been rewarded. Now if they’d just schedule a damn Indy date this year so I can see them…

4.5/5

(I’ve had thoughts for awhile about how to classify music fans based on how long they listened to Pearl Jam. It’s not quite mature, but hopefully I’ll stick with it and have that for you soon.)

Finn Brothers, Indianapolis, Feb. 22, 2005

February 26, 2005 / DB

Here are my impressions.

It was a truly excellent concert. We wormed our way as close to the stage as possible, and had just two people and five feet of stage between us and Neil Finn. Probably the closest I’ve ever been outside some of those tiny bars and coffee houses I’ve seen bands perform at. The brothers Finn were using a rather non-traditional stage set-up. They were seated at the front of the stage with a bass player behind them. In addition to manning the acoustic guitar all night, Tim Finn had a bass drum in front of his right foot and an upright snare near his left foot. Oh, and he had to alternate between harmonizing and lead vocals all night. I can’t play one instrument or carry a tune. He managed to play three instruments and sing at the same time. If I hadn’t enjoyed the show so much, I would have realized I really suck.

Anyway, like I said, the show was fantastic. They did a nice job of focusing in Finn Brothers material while still giving Crowded House and Split Enz songs some love. They even threw in a cover of Van Morrison’s “Irish Heartbeat”. Despite the lack of a drummer or a full-time keyboardist (Neil slid back to an electric piano for some songs), it was actually a fully electric and loud show. Where songs are glorious, deep, and layered on their albums, in this live setting they had a hard edge to them. Even some of their happy-go-lucky songs got nasty guitar treatments from Neil. I was in awe of his guitar playing ability. It seemed as though he used a completely different style on each song, alternating between three different electric guitars, a couple traditional acoustics, and one 12 string guitar.

The crowd was rather subdued in a typical respectful, Midwestern manner. There wasn’t a lot of singing or dancing, outside of the big songs everyone knew. Mostly warm, polite, friendly feedback from the crowd throughout the night. Oh, and there were clearly some people there that discovered either Split Enz or Crowded House in the late 70s, early 80s when they were my current age. The Finn Brothers are known for their between song banter, and in Tuesday’s performance they shared past experiences in Indy (Neil had been there, Tim had not), quizzed the crowd on what key is better; D or E-Flat; and fielded requests. One intrepid fan tossed a paper airplane towards Neil early in the night with what appeared to be dozens of songs scribbled onto it. He opened it, laughed, and said, “We’ll probably get to a few of these tonight.” Like all good music geeks, I had a list of songs I wanted to hear. Five in fact, since I didn’t know how many non-Tim CH songs they would play and I wanted to cover my bases. They didn’t play a single one, yet I didn’t go home disappointed.

Highlights of the night were the Jack White-like treatment of “Won’t Give In,” which Neil gave an interesting half country, half garage feel on his guitar; “Weather With You” which turned into a sing-along; the classic “Don’t Dream It’s Over” which got an interesting and pleasing new treatment, and the night’s closer “I See Red” in which Tim jumped off the chair he had been perched upon all night and despite being 52, launched into his manic stage style that made the Splitz so popular back in the day.

I could go on and on about other things that happened over the hour and 45 minutes they played. I would have loved another encore with a couple more songs, but I can’t complain about anything I heard. It was amazing to see how easily the brothers adjust and find each other mid-song when their eyes are closed or they’re looking away. They certainly proved that they have the rare combination of insane raw musical talent, the ability to write songs that touch people, and the charisma to make every show interesting and engaging.
There was an opening act, a woman named Bic Bunga, who like the Finns, is from New Zealand. This was her first night on the tour, and she performed by herself with only a guitar. We talked about how difficult it must be to be any opening act. But to have to face a crowd in a small club with no one else on stage to support you has to be daunting. To be opening for the biggest musical act that’s ever come from your homeland can’t help. (Fun Split Enz fact: Their album True Colours sold what was equivalent of one copy for every ten Australian homes. I’m no math major, but to have an American band do that same amount of sales in proportion to the US population you would be talking about a shitload of records.)

Finally, S. thinks I should grow my hair out like Tim Finn’s. I informed her I didn’t think my hair could do what his does. I will say this, though: If I was 52, touring full-time, and had grey hair, I wouldn’t mind going with Tim’s look. I’ll try to figure out how to post a picture of Tim’s locks.
The Finn Brothers promised a large venue tour of the States in the summer. Be watching for them.

His Name Is Prince

May 5, 2004 / DB

We’re honored to have the following dispatch from blog correspondent Mike “Punkmaster Flex” A., who attended the Prince concert in Kansas City Tuesday night. I’m officially green, or whatever color jealousy is colored these days.

Arguably the most talented musician alive hit the stage Tuesday night in Kansas City’s rickety Kemper arena. Buoyed on by 15,000+ screaming Princeaholics (my ears are literally still ringing), Mr. Rogers Nelson and his ultra-tight New Power Generation band did not disappoint.

Before I break down the festivities diary style, I need to point out that attending a Prince concert was somewhat of a 20-year “holy grail” quest for me. On two different occasions in the past, I had Prince tickets in my hand only to have something come up causing me to eat those tickets. For the 1985 Purple Rain tour, I was slated to be in Row 10 at the San Francisco leg of the tour. I should have checked with Coach Lualhati, my JuCo track coach, before purchasing because the night of the concert conflicted with a major meet. Coach L basically told me I was free to enjoy “that little purple freak”, but not to bother to show up for practice the following Monday. Clearly, Coach L didn’t appreciate fine music.

I looked to catch other Prince tours, Sign O’ the Times, Hit and Run, etc., but living abroad and grad school took precedence. Finally, a couple years, back Mrs. A. surprised me with great tix for Prince’s “One Night Only” at the Midtown. The day of the show arrives and we were hyped to attend. The sitter is lined up, I am sporting the cuff links, and we are ready to roll. Four hours before Prince takes stage, my lovely wife slips and injures her back in a parking lot. We end up all dressed up with only the ER to visit.

10:00 a.m.
I navigate to the Kemper Arena Will Call to pick up my tickets. I joined the Prince/NPG fan club a while back for this very moment. You see, fan club members get to purchase Prince tickets for any show before Ticketron sells them and are guaranteed seats up front. Just how close was a mystery. There is a small line of fan club members and I hear their seating discussions as they leave the window: Row 12, Row 9, Row 14, etc. I anxiously hand the Kemper worker my driver’s license and receive back a white envelope. Row 3, Section G, front left/center floor seats – right in the nook of the cross-shaped stage. One fan congratulates me, another calls me a female dog.

3:00 p.m.
I am having trouble focusing at work and keep thinking something will happen to disrupt my plans: one of the three A. giblets will fall ill, my boss will order me on a plane to North Dakota, a cube wall will cave in and crush me.

6:30 p.m.
After a romantic dinner in the lobby of my work building, Mrs. A. and I are about to arrive at Kemper when an interesting conversation breaks out:

Mrs. A: With Prince all religious now is he going to play any of his down-and-dirty stuff? The naughty ones are his best songs.
Mr. A: Umm…no dear
Mrs. A: No Erotic City? Get Off? Sexy M.F.? Le Grind?
Mr. A: No, but I promise it will still be funky.
Mrs. A: Let’s go home.

6:45 p.m.
After navigating through the scenic Kemper parking lots, we find a spot and begin walking the grounds which featured tents set up by several KC-based radio stations. As I looked around at the eclectic crowd, I was reminded of a line from “Controversy”: Am I black or white, am I straight or gay? The crowd was all that with folks from every walk of life – black, white, Asian, Hispanic, gay, young, old, and very old. They were all on display.

6:50 p.m.
Mrs. A and I had a wonderful time people watching outside the arena. You had the uber-fan artist in one area giving out Prince prints. You had the “purple hat club” of women in another area sporting bright purple “Kangol styled” berretta hats (think Samuel L or Quentin T). You had a cross-dressed man in a purple boa. You had an All-Star “victory for the common man” moment with a 5’6″ average Joe wearing cowboy boots walking hand-in-hand with a 5’10” silicon-enhanced Hawaiian Tropics looking girl. You had skank, conservative, redneck, pimped-out, and everything in between. It was beautiful.

7:10 p.m.
We entered the arena, were handed free Musicology CDs (nice touch), and started toward the floor. I admit feeling pretty fresh in my all black gear being escorted by security down toward the stage. Once in our section, we immediately bonded with fellow fan club members. The folks we stood next to were a mid-40ish couple from Eureka Springs, Arkansas. He owns a restaurant and she is his companion and pastry chef. They are following Prince around on this tour and plan to hit five total concerts. How would it be to have no financial worries and follow your favorite musician from city to city….

8:00 p.m.
House lights go off and the crowd starts buzzing. The band takes the stage and begins to jam. A spotlight shines in the middle of the stage and Prince does the old rise up out of the ground stunt. He is fully tricked out in his black three-quarter length, one side longer than the other, coat and sparkly studded boots. He merely stands center stage for a few moments, with his fedora pulled down and that patented smirk on his face, and the crowd goes ballistic – louder than a crying baby (you will see soon DDB just how loud that can be), louder than a jet overhead, and even louder than Arrowhead during a Chiefs/Raider game.

8:05 p.m.
Prince and the NPG are fiercely tearing through Musicology’s title track to open the set. Any song shouting out Chuck D, Jam Master Jay, James Brown, and Sly Stone is destined for greatness and Musicology is no exception – funky horns, slappin’ base, and Prince vocalizing like only he can. “Don’t you hear this old-school joint?” Yes Prince, I do and I like it.

8:30 p.m.
The artist formerly known as a symbol is in the midst of whipping the crowd into the proverbial frenzy by belting out the classic Purple Rain era hits: Let’s Go Crazy (complete with confetti streaming into the crowd, I Would Die 4 U, When Doves Cry, Baby I’m a Star, etc. All the classic hits are on display including 1999 and a couple singles he wrote: Sheila E’s “A Glamorous Life” and Chaka Khan’s “I Feel 4 U”. Just after deftly performing the overlooked gem “Shhh”, Prince playfully does a bit of “Crazy in Love” and busts out the Beyonce’ dance moves. He does these surprisingly well and throughout the evening shows some incredibly nimble dance moves.

Prince closes the first act with searing versions of DMSR and Controversy. During this fifteen-minute jam, the crowd is allowed to marvel at the brilliance of the band: Candy Dulfer and Maceo Parker on sax, Renato on keyboard, Rhonda on bass, and the sensational John Blackwell Jr. on drums. I have never seen such fine musicianship….as Prince said repeatedly during the show, “we play real music here”.

I hadn’t mentioned it yet, but when Prince ventured to the portion of the stage nearest our section he was literally six-feet away. The lovely Candy spent most of the night there as well blowin’ that sax. At 45-years old, Prince looks amazing…no wrinkles at all. He clearly doesn’t use Jacko’s plastic surgery team.

8:55 p.m.
After a short break, Prince goes solo on an acoustic set for 45 minutes. Just the man, a swivel chair, and a pitch-perfect purple acoustic guitar. It is during this session that you appreciate Prince’s songwriting ability. Little Red Corvette, Nothing Compares 2 U, Sometimes it Snows in April, Alphabet Street, and Sweet Thing are all lyrically strong and catchy as hell. All of the women in the crowd sang along during Sweet Thing. For a spell, he let the crowd go at it without him…very cool.

At this point I need to mention the guy with the easiest job on tour: “The Ax Man”. This nappily dressed Asian fellow magically appeared on stage throughout the night for the sole purpose of providing Prince with an array of guitars. Once Prince finished with one, Ax Man would stoically grab it and disappear below stage until Prince was ready for a new one. How does one apply for a job like that? With everything else he does so well, it is easy to forget that Prince can indeed really shred on guitar. He had several solos during the evening that had the house quaking.

9:30 p.m.
The acoustic set is over and its time to bring the band back and turn the mutha’ out during the third act. My favorite Prince ditty, “Sign of the Times”, is done to perfection and is followed by a rump-shakin’ rendition of “U Got That Look”. I took a few minutes to survey the crowd during that song and let me tell you, there is something surreal about 15,000 diverse individuals swaying to a beat. Up in the balcony, folks were silhouetted and dancing in unison – just like in the club scene from Purple Rain. That moment alone was worth the $76 ticket.

Boys and girls, here is a tidbit. Even if you are consuming beverages at a concert, under no circumstances should you decide to arbitrarily remove clothing. Clearly bested by a tall can of Bud, a 50ish gentlemen near us figured it would be nice to share his flesh with everyone and “strip right down to his underwear”. To say he had body odor would be a disservice to body odor. Needless to say, his concert neighbors were not impressed with his stench, body hair, or beer gut.

10:00 p.m.
The highlight of the evening commences with “Let’s Work”, yet another funkalicious Prince classic (by this time, Mrs. A. is deliriously shaking her bon bon for all its worth and forgetting about our car conversation). Prince brings at least 15 women on stage and two men. They all gyrate while the band blends “Let’s Work” into “Soul Man” into “Kiss” into “Take Me With U”. I must say that of the women on stage, the sistas definitely shook it like a Polaroid picture much better than the soccer moms.

In the middle of this final jam, Prince calls on stage an eight-year girl and dances with her. I figured she would be scared to death, but she more than held her own even playing Candy’s tambourine in perfect rhythm.

10:15 p.m
After deafening applause for ten minutes, Prince and the NPG return to perform the full version of Purple Rain. Out come the lighters and the entire crowd is singing. While I can’t say PR is one of my favorite Prince songs, the moment was undeniably magic. After the song, Prince flipped a couple of guitar picks to the crowd and Blackwell tossed out his drum sticks.

10:30 p.m.
With smiles we couldn’t quite shake, we left the arena with Musicology blaring on the car stereo. For one night in the Heartland, school was definitely in session and conducted by a musician’s musician. Play on Prince, play on.