The Killers the band

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with this band. When Hot Fuss came out in 2004 and slowly climbed the charts on the strength of its great singles, my faith in record-buyers was somewhat restored. Here was a band with talent, ambition and a sound that, while biting ‘80s synth-pop, was all their own at the time. To boot, they were selling enough records to rival the familiar pop, rap and country acts that tended to dominate the top spots.

I even remember seeing the band’s video for “Somebody Told Me” late at night on MTV2 before their debut even made a ripple (let alone a wave) and thinking “this band is going to be big.” Sure enough, four years and two other albums later, they are among the best-selling American groups and one of the bigger concert draws, counting both hipster elitists and TRL junkies as fans.

It comes as no surprise to me. They are a band of gifted songwriters and fine musicians. The production on their records is top notch and they seem to hold themselves to a high standard.

However, their shtick is becoming tiresome. With Sam’s Town, their second album, the band relied heavily on the epic grandeur of Springsteen’s open-road ballad sound. Though the release took them from the club to the arena, its derivative material did little to set them apart and make an original statement.

Their new LP, Day and Age, is another cut-and-paste exercise in style-biting. Perhaps an homage to the cheesy adult-contemporary sound of another (dare I say) Day and Age, it’s layered with synthesized grooves, tacky saxophone accents and more overdubbed tracks than a bustling rail terminal. The result is an over-the-top album that, while populated with catchy tunes, recalls a sound that was left to die decades ago and makes another weak case for the band’s originality.

As if their music’s overt sentimentality (now beginning to feel contrived) wasn’t enough, frontman Brandon Flowers’ ego is inflating. In the press, he is often quoted saying things like ‘my band is the voice of a generation,’ ‘we’re awesome,’ and so on. This point though, is moot. I don’t want to judge a band’s music by the people who make it—I’d rather let it speak for itself.

Either way, it’s speaking loudly and it’s telling me that it’s drowning in self-indulgence.

MULCH

Whether or not anyone noticed my absence from GimmeDanger, I'll explain it. I've been working on a zine for a good while and I'm finally looking at a short stack of the finished product. After all the writing, laying out, photo-hunting and laboring over different designs and color palettes, I realized that it'd cost me nearly $7 to reproduce a full color copy. With that, I've decided to issue it in black and white. The content is what you may have come to expect, "a collection of moot musings and mumbo-jumbo, MULCH is just that: a mixed blend of matter."

You can find MULCH in Portland at the downtown Powell's on Burnside while supplies last. Or you can get in touch with me and I'll mail you one. And yes, that is my cat on the cover.

on animal farm

In a move guaranteed to rile wannabe zookeepers, the Oregon Senate has approved a measure banning private possession of certain exotic animals as pets.

The measure would prohibit ownership of lions, tigers and bears (oh my) as well as monkeys, apes, and alligators. Lawmakers contend that it would protect both human safety and animal welfare.

I couldn’t agree more.

Under current law, people get permits from the state Department of Agriculture to keep exotic pets. The Senate bill would not force people to give up those pets but it would prevent people from obtaining new ones.

Sponsors of the bill said that often the exotic pets grow too large and too difficult to handle and they either escape or are let loose by their owners.

Even though the Oregon legislature is poised to dash my hopes of stocking a menagerie with animals that are better suited to lives in the wild than in my backyard, I suppose I’ll get by with a little Beezer cat.

The bill, which now advances to the House, would not affect wildlife rehabilitators, wildlife sanctuaries, zoos, circuses or research or educational facilities.

THIS JUST IN

This just in: City of Albany to revitalize downtown area, refurbish crumbling schools and construct Oregon’s first legit Nascar track.

Well, probably not.

But, since the Albany City Council voted to sue a subsidiary of PepsiCo for more than $100 million over the company's decision not to build a Gatorade and Propel Fitness Water factory in the city, it stands to collect some loot.

The city council voted 4-0 Monday to authorize the lawsuit, which alleges breach of contract.

Under a 2006 agreement, a PepsiCo subsidiary said it would build a $165 million beverage plant and a separate $85 million bottle-making factory on 241 acres the company bought.

Last November the company notified the city that because of market changes it had changed its mind.

With the country’s every state and municipality in dire economic straits, one has to wonder if the Council’s unanimous decision to sue was motivated by the city’s own lack of money.

To be sure, this legal battle will be costly and hard fought. PepsiCo is a giant organization with a team of skilled attorneys on its side. If the City of Albany doesn’t win the sum for which it is suing, this lawsuit may cost it more than it can muster and further compound its financial predicament.

Still loopy

I went to the 32nd annual Newport Seafood and Wine Fest today. It was great. In addition to the typical weekend warriors, I saw sluggish wine slobs drifting aimlessly and bead-draped cougars on the prowl, speaking in shrieks and wearing enough makeup to shame Tammy Faye. All gathered peacefully in a giant tent to drink copious amounts of vino, eat shrimp cocktails and cheer emphatically at the shattering of a glass.

Though I'm no connoisseur, I enjoyed several delicious wines from all over the Willamette Valley. Still, it was amusing to watch the clueless dorks pretending they could tell the difference between a spicy cab and a mellow syrah with a fruity finish.

When in Rome, make lemonade, eh?

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when life gives you lemons...

The nation’s economy is in a recession. Stocks and markets continue to falter, unemployment is on the rise, the dollar’s value is dropping and foreclosures are still mounting. While our elected officials struggle to balance budgets and decide which programs get funding and which don’t, our President has done little to rally the people and buoy spirits.

Consumer sales are at record lows, folks are worried about their jobs, investor confidence is waning, and some people are holing up and hording what little they have.

It’s clear that the country’s situation is dire. The last thing we need is the fluffy, happy talk reserved for a child: “there, there, it’ll be okay.” I, for one, find that insulting.

At the same time, the real talk that we’re getting from Obama is terribly gloomy. Though he’s taking care to treat the economic crisis with the utmost seriousness, he’s speaking too solemnly with a furrowed brow about the long slog ahead of us. I, for one, find that overwhelming.

So what’s needed? Obama obviously can’t please everyone. I think a mix of speech and action would serve him, and the population, well. The real talk should be given to us straight but it should be tempered with a sense of optimism and a mention of what we, as citizens, can do to help.

In his defense, he has expressed confidence that the nation will bounce back. These statements though, are delivered with the consternation and stiff body language that leaves me feeling more worried than comforted.

Bill Clinton echoed these sentiments in a recent television interview. "I like trying to educate the American people about the dimensions and scope of this economic crisis," he said. "I just would like [Obama] to end by saying that he is hopeful and completely convinced we're gonna come through this."

Side note: imagine the pressure. All eyes are on Obama. His every move is being dissected by critics, his most ardent supporters are expectantly waiting for him to fix everything, and guys like me are straddling that line, just hoping he can make the lemonade.

Fight

A fight at a skatepark in Tualatin that left four injured will end up being yet another thorn in the side of the movement to construct new skateparks across the state.

The fight, in which one person was stabbed, happened last night around 7 p.m. and has prompted the all-too-familiar stereotyping of skateboarders.

“Just more proof that skateparks attract the wrong crowd. Fill the darn thing in and make it a basketball court or another playground,” commented one reader on The Oregonian’s website despite the fact that none of the fighters have been identified as skaters.

While business owners complain about the destructive, dangerous and noisy presence of skateboarders on their property, residents fight skatepark construction in their neighborhoods. ‘Not in my backyard,’ they say, citing skaters’ tendencies toward substance abuse and general delinquency.

Still, the past decade has seen Oregon and the greater northwest become an internationally-renowned destination for skaters due to its abundance of world-class skateparks.

The most recent wave of new construction began in November 2002 when Portland voters approved a parks levy which, among other things, provided for two new skateparks at Pier and Glenhaven Parks in north and northeast Portland. The Portland Parks Foundation helped secure funding for a skate spot in the new Holly Farm Park in southwest Portland. Thanks to special funding approved by City Council in 2006, a new skatepark opened July 2008 in Gabriel Park in southwest Portland and a skate area is almost completed in Ed Benedict Park in southeast Portland.

Now, with plans to build another, much larger skatepark in the city’s Old Town near the west ramp of the Steel Bridge, skaters will likely see increased opposition to the construction and/or increased police presence when the project is finished. It’s also likely that the entire project will be postponed indefinitely due to the nationwide economic crisis and the city's financial woes.

Letterman vs Phoenix

David Letterman hosted actor Joaquin Phoenix last night. Together, the two engaged in what was surely one of the most unforgettable and uncomfortable exchanges in Late Show history.

Phoenix, hiding behind dark shades and a full, unkempt beard, was awkward and distant. Appearing on the show to promote his new movie, he mumbled one and two word answers to Letterman’s questions and prompted the host, himself truly gifted at moving conversations from mundane to memorable, to exploit the situation’s potential for comedic value. Letterman soon began mocking Phoenix, playfully ribbing the actor with sarcastic one-liners, until Phoenix grew contemptuous of the host, the co-host, and even the audience.

The whole exchange culminated when Letterman remarked, “Maybe I'll come to your house some night and chew gum." Phoenix responded by taking the gum out of his mouth and sticking it to the host’s desk.

Whether or not Letterman was actually irritated and whether or not Phoenix was really on another planet, it was some damn entertaining television, and surely sent millions of viewers off to bed wondering whether they just witnessed a stoned actor falling apart before the cameras, or a daring performer tearing apart the very conventions of the late night TV talk show.

Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXpYk7WGN5Y. We'll see how long it lasts.

Beaver Cleaver

Beaver Cleaver and his television family were the iconic nuclear unit of post-war suburban America.

RAVE ON

Fifty years ago today, Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens played a show in Clear Lake, Iowa.

Their short Upper Midwest tour was billed as the Winter Dance Party and predated the mega-festival super-tour concert scene of today. The lucky few that braved the bitter winter weather to see these young men perform were in the presence of a greatness that was soon to be prematurely snatched away.

Just hours after the show, the three were killed in a plane crash in the early hours of the day that came to be known as “the day the music died.”

Holly was only 22 years old but had already left an indelible mark on the developing rock-and-roll sound. Paul McCartney recalled singing and playing his songs with John Lennon when they were boys. Indeed, the first song the pair ever recorded with a young George Harrison was a cover of “That’ll Be The Day.”

One could speculate that had there been no Buddy Holly, there might be no Beatles. To me, that’s more devastating of a thought than the loss of Holly at such a young age. As sad as his untimely death was and is, at least we can be thankful that he was around long enough to leave a small but lasting body of influential work.

LISTEN TO WORDS OF LOVE, OH BOY!, RAVE ON and MAYBE BABY

I need a new drug...

...well not really. Huey Lewis sang that and I think his 1984 song's message applies to me too. He needed a change and so do I.

I need some new tunes. Times are tight and I don't have the loot to spend on the hit-or-miss music endeavors that expose me to new sounds. As much as I'd like to dig through the just-arrived record bins or grab that CD that the mag wrote about, I just can't afford to take the chance on its coolness.

So lately, when buying music, I tend to dig deeper into the catalogs of bands that I already like. Or I'll just buy an old album that's been deemed irrefutably classic. Even though I always win with these purchases, it's still not as thrilling as discovering something new or grooving to an old 45 by someone I've never even heard of.

Case in point: When I was thirteen, I bought The Clash's London Calling. I had never read about or listened to The Clash. I stumbled on the image of the iconic sleeve and reasoned that anything with that cool of a photo on the front must be the bee's knees. Turns out that judging that book by its cover was a good move.

Since those days are behind me, I'm calling on YOU, loyal danger-seekers. Please comment with music suggestions new and old. Though I have been known to be a bit of a music snob, those days too are now behind me and I will consider each suggestion with deference. Judging by the amount of hits this site gets, I'm banking that a few of you have a fairly good idea of what I dig.

PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

At the slow bar

They're playing 'gimme danger' at the slow bar.
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time to pretend

I know that all the year-end, best-of lists have already been put out there but I'm finally ready to make my claim.

The best album of 2008 is MGMT's Oracular Spectacular. With its woozy essence and space-disco pulse, the album is a work of staggering genius—not bad for a couple dudes from Brooklyn. Not only does the whole shape-shifting thing rock a room full of party people, it’s alternately effective alone, in headphones, where the soundscapes truly come to life.

By mixing modernist electro with time-tested psychedelic and world music, Ben Goldwasser and Andrew VanWyngarden crafted a debut with enough hooks to snag a sea of indie ears. "Time to Pretend" and "Kids" are so catchy that they'll be playing in your head long after the drugs wear off. “The Handshake” and its multiple parts are comfortably disorienting; the opiate sheen of the first two minutes awesomely sets up its pounding conclusion and the whistling on the fadeout caps the song. The guitar solo on “Of Moons, Birds & Monsters” recalls the freakout at the end of the 13th Floor Elevators’ “You’re Gonna Miss Me” while the aboriginal groove of “Electric Feel” calls to mind Men at Work’s hit “Down Under.”

Still, the album as a whole is refreshing. Nothing else that came out this year sounded quite like it. And despite what could be perceived as their apparent apathy, MGMT make their intention known on “The Youth,” singing “This is a call to arms to live and love and sleep together.” It’s a simple message that resounds across its ten tracks and one that seems more appealing now than ever. That’s what’s so great about it and that’s why it’s GimmeDanger's album of the year.

GO BUY IT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY.

NYC? Try Portland.

I saw so many of these cookie-cutter dudes last summer.

PPS Disorder

Another year has passed. I’m a year older, maybe a bit wiser and definitely more sobered by the weight of the world. Still, I read something the other day that not only applies to me and my ephemeral youth, but to many others at times, and not even within the realm of skateboarding.

The Guest Ed column in The Skateboard Mag is usually written by a washed-up old pro who usually talks about kids these days, how things used to be back in the day, or the generally unexplainable virtue of skateboarding. The most recent issue however, contained a piece written by a young dude who I don’t know. Greg Robinson writes:

If you skateboard and are over the age of eighteen, there is a high likelihood that you suffer from Peter Pan Syndrome. Commonly referred to as PPS Disorder, Peter Pan Syndrome tends to thrive in fully grown adults whose lives are a complete and total synthesis between children’s fantasy and adult reality.

…Peter Pan Syndrome is based on the fictional behaviors and mannerisms of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. As with the inhabitants of Never Never Land, those who suffer from PPS Disorder experience a perpetual reluctance to grow up and engage in the expected norms of adult society.

…Without proper treatment, those diagnosed with PPS Disorder will experience a general disconnect from the established social order and eventually lose grip on the public’s concept of reality. In the end, the subject will completely devolve into a sort of carefree man-child, strutting through life with the easy-going attitude of a boy and the physical attributes of an adult.

…Skateboarding [or whatever your bag is] is a rickety old vessel that’s going to lurch on well beyond all of our years combined. Only mutiny can properly govern the crew, and it’s that constant revolt that’s kept the ship spotless since day one. Any bullshit is scrubbed down; anything unnecessary is thrown overboard. Seeing as how such a huge chunk of life has already been dumped into scrubbing the decks, every skateboarder has eventually got to ask the following:

Do I abandon ship and swim for land, thus putting my PPS Disorder into complete and total remission?

Or do I remain a Lost Boy aboard the Jolly Roger and go down with the ship in the seas of Never Never Land?

FIND THE BALANCE