DROP BOX: Slumdoggy-style, MetHallica

Author's Note: I'm gonna try to start doing what I call a "Drop Box" (trying to keep the Library theme) where I post small musings and notes, etc. in between larger reviews. I'll try to keep them as regular as possible.

On a rendezvous with a faithful companion, I was finally able to see Slumdog Millionaire, aka That Indian Quiz Show Movie That Everyone Is Clobbering With Awards. To be honest, I think it lives up to the hype. Danny Boyle was able to tastefully stylize the involving story without calling too much attention to the quick cuts and dropframe sequences. This being said, there is one gigantic, curry-flavored cheeseball line at the end that sours an otherwise excellent movie. If you end up seeing it (which you should), you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

In music news, metal gods/my personal music heroes in middle school Metallica are going to be inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of fame this spring. As much as James, Kirk and (ugh) Lars are no longer a prominent part of my musical taste, I am glad to see them get their due. Despite Bob Rock trying to lose them their fanbase, the whole "hate Napster/love money" debacle, and recruiting a crabwalking Neanderthal to pound on the bass, Metallica really kicked some serious ass. After listening to "Master of Puppets" for the first time in a while, I remembered exactly how much serious ass they could kick.

Congrats to the other nominees:Run-DMC, Jeff Beck, Bobby Womack, and Little Anthony & The Imperials.

First Review! PJ Harvey, WHITE CHALK

In order to make these reviews fresh, I decided to head to my Local Library and grab some new material. After dropping my surely overdue materials into the treacherous slot (which I'm convinced is the reason for most of the jewel case damage in the Lib's CD section), I trot down to the basement.

I made it harder on myself by sliding in roughly a half hour before closing, meaning that I can't stand around ruminating for my first review subjects.

So I get it in my head that I need to quickly select various artists, in terms of style, background, decade, blah to the third power. However, I've learned from a certain math/FBI show that trying to make things random usually blows up in your face (in a numb3r of ways). So I tried to be natural and do what I had done the previous summer/fall and just pick up what caught my eye.

One cubic handful later, I see that my first batch is dominated by albums released in this decade, and mostly female artists. In the interest of diversity, I jet over to the paltry Non-Pop Rock section and fumble through the Internationals for some male world music. Feeling I'd put enough on my plate for the time being, I proceeded towards my other errands and left the library, to return (hopefully) with seven reviews under my belt.

With my loot sitting in front of me at home, I make a quick decision for the guinea pig album, the first of the first. I decide to pick PJ Harvey's White Chalk, released in 2007 off of Island Records.

I grabbed Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea (2000) about a month ago, and was captured by Polly Jean Harvey's ferocity and full-bodied hard rock sound, especially on tracks like “Big Exit” and “The Whores Hustle and the Hustlers Whore”. My expectations were that of a contemplative singer-songwriter with shades of the Tori Amos era. Instead, I got what Chrissy Hynde of the Pretenders wishes she still sounded like.

The memorable impression she made on me must be the explanation for taking out two PJ albums at once, since I had an idea that this Brit was more versatile than she initially seemed. White Chalk has definitely not disappointed me in that respect. As soon as the opening track, “The Devil”, started creeping into my ears, I knew that I had a different type of album on my hands. She maintains her ability to harness emotion by fluctuating dynamics. Her quiet valleys set up the more powerful peaks with the ease of a gifted artist.

PJ exhibits her ability to sing with that soft, haunting voice that is more common nowadays (think Feist or even Norah Jones). However, these songs lack the playful idiosyncrasy of Feist or the one-dimensional nature of Ms. Jones. Another distinguishing hallmark that proves she isn't trying to capitalize on the style of the day is her quasi-falsetto when she reaches the higher registers. Now I know from an old music teacher that women don't have falsettos, but if you've heard it, you know what I'm talking about. She also puts some persona into her voice for certain songs in order to add character to the particular track. “When Under Ether” is sung with an almost child-like ring to it. Since the lyrics strongly imply an abortion-like experience, you then get the idea that the words are coming from a younger woman or teenager. After I figured this out, the song became extremely hard to shake.

PJ's vocals, paired with effective, minimal instrumentation, create a consistent melancholy tone throughout the album. Thankfully, PJ has explored multiple flavors of this tone, and in doing so prevents herself from making White Chalk boring or repetitive.

I feel like I can't quite put this album in its proper context, since I'm not fully versed in PJ Harvey's catalog. Even so, I get the sense that these uniquely spare and ghostly tunes are even better once enjoyed in context. I can't wait to get to that point because I'm already loving this album; I can't imagine what it'll sound like to me after I get into Uh Huh Her. Here's hoping for good things.

It's Resolution, Baby!

On January 1st, 2009, I was standing on a subway platform in the freezing cold. Since pacing around like a fiend wasn't maintaining my body heat, I opted for the Mind Over Matter approach. I was keeping my mind busy with rehashing the celebration from the night before, when I accidentally wandered into contemplating both my existence and my future. It became clear that 2009 was to be the first official year of "real life" since leaving the collegiate world.
So where was I? I had done some work in my intended field that was rewarding and eye-opening, but also sporadic and unreliable. I had secured a job that makes money (the best kind) and will be a fun way to do so, regardless of its deviation from my desired field. There were countless paths that I wanted to take in the field, but none had been fully pursued. All in all, things could be worse.
Wait a minute. Things could be worse? What kind of talk is that? At the time, I am practically lacking obligations: no wife, no kids, no rent. So what was I worried about? Why did I feel like all the things I wanted to do were already off-limits?
Deciding that I was being both mopey and stupid, I evaluated my desires and picked one that not only was possible, but was possible AND free (essentially). So here I am, a first-time blogger who wants to use the forces of blog to try his hand at being a movie/music critic. I'll channel my loves of writing, music and film into my posts, which will be structured as critical examinations peppered with my own personal connections to the material.
Enough rambling. Welcome to Public Record.