Scott Reviews the Decemberists' "The King is Dead"

Welcome back everyone. Haven't seen any "new" movies since The Green Hornet, (mostly catching up on Oscar films and television shows) so I've decided to give music a shot.



"The King is Dead". This is the sixth full length album from folky/indie Portland, Oregon based, The Decemberists. Their most previous work before this includes "The Hazard's of Love" from 2009 and 2006's "The Crane Wife" both which seem to tell a story throughout the album. Before these 2 albums there were 3 other full lengths plus a handful of EP's. Each filled with a spectrum of folk based songs from the light and fun to the very dark or even perverted tales. Their styles on these albums were just as broad, from slower acoustic songs such as "The Crane Wife 3" to the heavier grunge influenced "The Island" which sounds like something off of a Pink Floyd or Kansas album(these tracks appear back to back on Crane Wife).

I anticipated this album very highly because, if you haven't figured it out already, I'm a Decemberists fan. So you may think this will be a very biased review but I was prepared to put this album under a microscope. What I found was indeed surprising.
The sound wasn't entirely new, yet it was the most "consistent" album as far as sound and style they have ever released. From the opening harmonica until the very end it's a very light, folky tone that even ventures into the realm of country.
"King" starts with "Don't Carry It All", and before you know it you're nodding your head to the upbeat pace. The album's pace doesn't change until the third song "Rise to Me" which slows the pace down to what sounds like very mellow classic country. The pace doesn't stay there though. It picks right back up in "Rocks in the Box" which reminds me of Charlie Daniels' "Devil Went Down to Georgia". This is followed by the beautiful "January Hymn" which features very clean acoustic 'picking'. Next up is the first single off of the album "Down By the Water". It's a nice, catchy tune and the closest thing on the album to a single.
The furthest stray off of the folk/country theme of the album is "Why We Fight", which incorporates other aspects of the band's range. My personal favorite song on the album would be "June Hymn". It has a very slow beginning by an acoustic guitar accompanied by a harmonica, a very Bob Dylan sound that I really like.
The only downfall of the album seems to be the length. At around 40 minutes it leaves you wanting a little more, especially with the band's previous albums being slightly longer. The fact that the sound is not as broad as previous was at first a con, but they perfected this style so much that I just appreciated almost every note and second. I recommend it to anyone who hasn't heard The Decemberists before(as well as their previous works), as well as fellow Decemberists fans. But if you are looking for the slightly heavier, grungy or electric version of the band, you may not like the album. I say give it a shot anyway.

7.5/10



Even Chucky loves the Decemberists!!!!!

Never Forget February 2, 2011

A toast to Jack and Meg White who, for the last 13 years, have been collectively known as The White Stripes.
Warning. I'm about to gush a lot. This band was my absolute favorite band of all time.
At the dawn of the new century I was first introduced to The White Stripes' breakout hit "Fell In Love With a Girl". It rode in on a crest started by other "The" bands (THE Strokes, THE Hives, THE Vines). I feel that this era is what defines the gap between Stripes devotees and the mere radio listeners. Many people dismissed the Stripes as the "The" craze died. But it turns out that their "the" was only part of the trend through coincidence. The White Stripes were bringing something decidedly different to the table. Of course this is not to say anything negative about the other "The" bands. I'm still an active listener of all three. But MY Beatles broke up today, so let me do my thing.

Ya I said it. My Beatles broke up today. Now it's unfair to really compare any band to the Beatles because the scope of the Beatles mythos is ongoing to this day. While I do hope that the Jack and Meg White legacy should continue to grow as they pursue other projects, my comparison is based on my reaction to the breakup. I feel how I imagine hardcore Beatles fans felt when they disbanded. I'm shocked. I'm a bit upset, but I keep telling myself it's ok. At least they'll never have a chance to suck.


Not that I ever thought they had a chance to suck anyway.



My love for the Stripes runs deep, but it wasn't always this way. In fact when I first bought "White Blood Cells" I was disappointed that "Fell In Love With a Girl" was the only song that sounded like a "The" band. I was also fifteen.

I gave it a few good listens, generally enjoyed it and chucked it aside so I could enjoy some more Blink182. I picked it up here and there, but it was not until 2003's "Elephant" that my infatuation took hold. I bought it on a whim put it on in my car. I'll never forget the next 45 minutes. This wasn't what the White Stripes sounded like in my brain. I asked myself did I miss something on that first album I bought? So, after being mind-blown by "Elephant"(the supreme highlight being "Ball and a Biscuit"), I immediately revisited "White Blood Cells". To my surprise this was more of that same sweetness I'd just listened to. What happened? My musical taste had apparently matured, and I realized that this was no "The" band, this was the motherfucking White Stripes. A crazy-grungy-bluesy-garage-rock revival with a side of sweetness and charm, here to kick some ass. I did a bit of research and soon after discovered that they had two previous albums that I hadn't heard of. I immediately bought them and felt the same enthusiasm. The self-titled premiere album was a collection of extremely lo-fi bluesy rock, and the sophomore album "De Stijl" was no different, and even featured a few covers of ooooold blues(Son House's "Death Letter" is made sublime).



These four albums dominated my cd player almost 100 percent of the time, and over the next few years I became obsessed.

Their next album was "Get Behind Me Satan", the closest thing that the Stripes have had to an experimental album. Whereas the duo had used other instruments than just their classic guitar-and-drum combo on albums before, this album contained much more use of piano and xylophone. Despite this, GBMS still had that distinct White Stripes feel. And with that the image of Jack and Meg White playing the characters of brother and sister had cemented itself into pop culture.



The Stripes' final album(in exception to their live album) was Icky Thump. Their first step away from reel-to-reel recording and towards the digital era also marked a return to their guitar-and-drum roots. And of course, it was fantastic.

It was after this album that I was finally able to see them live...at Madison Square Garden. Needless to say, it was glorious!
This is the only time I was able to see them live. There was one time earlier that they played the Atlantic City House of Blues, a mere 40 minute drive from my house at the time, and I didn't go because I was young and stupid. I even read a book called "The Greatest Show I Ever Saw" in which a rock writer cited that that show was his favorite. I list this as my only regret in life.



Throughout my formative years the White Stripes taught me how to love music. They taught me to deny trends and define myself truthfully. They gave me a look into the history of classic blues. They even teamed up with some of my favorite artists(Michel Gondry, Conan O'Brien, Jim Jarmusch) and further cemented themselves into my being.
The Stripes have appeared in films, Jack has become a successful producer, and even had the distinct honor of performing a Bond theme. Hell, they were on the fucking Simpsons. Despite today marking the end on The White Stripes, their impact is indelible.

I don't know where Meg will go after the break up, but I can only imagine that, despite Jack's busy production schedule and his work with two other bands, they will still be involved musically, and at the very least, Meg will take her rightful place in another band.


The split is based upon the desire of the band to preserve their legacy. Mission accomplished. The Stripes' parting words are inspiring: "The White Stripes do not belong to Meg and Jack anymore. The White Stripes belong to you now and you can do with it whatever you want. The beauty of art and music is that it can last forever if people want it to."



So it is with this that I say thank you Jack and Meg. Thank you for being the soundtrack to my life. And thank you for pumping the brakes before you ever got a chance to suck. Now gimme a new Raconteurs album!!!!

Location:Diamond St,Philadelphia,United States

Thy Kingdom Sucks: Fuck The Boondock Saints

It appears that I have cemented my position in life as "The Movie Guy". This is very cool to me since I am the guy everybody comes to for reviews, recommendations, and explanations. Sadly, there is a downside. As "The Movie Guy" it is unavoidable to become a bit of a snob about what is worth watching and what is utter dreck. Now, unlike many(perhaps more credible)"Movie Guys", I tend to like most everything. Some flicks are better than others, but for the most part, I try to find a reason to enjoy any film I see. Couple that with my ability to avoid films that I know I won't like(Oh, Katherine Heigl, you're my favorite red flag), and I simply can't give a bad review.


On the other hand, when I don't like a movie, you KNOW it has got to be a special kind of terrible. "The Boondock Saints" is that kind of terrible. What makes it worse is that I think I might be the only person who feels this way. People LOVE "Saints" so much that they buy logo shirts, eat food out of logo lunchboxes, dress up as characters for Halloween(or for school!), and even get tattoos to match those of the lead characters. Are you fucking kidding me?!?!? If you get AEQUITAS and VERITAS tattooed anywhere on your body, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease do not procreate(what's really sad is that there's some dumb ho out there that will find said tattoos to be so hot that she'll gladly rock a c-section scar to match her man's ink).

It would be unfair for me to wantonly shit on a movie without giving it one last chance for redemption. Before revisiting it, I had always felt that "Saints" was an alright movie, over-hyped by it's legions of fans. Oh boy, I could not have been more wrong. Upon my recent viewing I discovered that this movie was not only bad, but downright UNWATCHABLE at points. It looks like it was written and directed by me, shot on my porch using a VHS camera, and edited by my narcoleptic uncle(who, for the sake of this article, exists). It is a complete mess, not even worthy of being considered a mildly distracting genre entry.

Let's tear this fucker apart from the opening credits


1. Our characters are introduced in a Church, cuz, ya know, churches in Boston are a sign of a good movie. Our characters get up in the middle of a mass to walk past the priest, kneel down behind the altar to silently pray, and then leave before the mass is done. What a couple of dickheads. Even one priest, who clearly is not in the know, motions to stop them, only to be halted by another priest who seems to say, "Leave them be, they're The Boondock Saints. Ya know, from that movie". This is all despite the fact that they haven't done anything yet to deserve notoriety. As far as were concerned, at this point they're just a couple of brothers who work in a meat-packing plant(appropriate)

2. This brings us to the meat-packing plant, where our favorite zany brothers are enlisted to train an amalgamation of lesbian stereotypes on how to pack meat. Somehow this results in the two boys beating up this woman. Luckily, they have Irish accents which make this beating light-hearted and fun rather than violent and criminal. Naturally they are fired and must go drink because guess what...it's Saint Patricks Day. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY Ireland!

3. We now meet their friends, Italian Stereotype, and Bartender-With-A-Parodical-Case-Of-Tourrette's. We are introduced to Italian Stereotype by way of a freeze-frame with an onscreen profile of who he is and why we should care(we shouldn't). This device is used for some characters and not for others, and only seems to pop up when the script needs to add "depth" without actually writing anything. It's a grand old time at the bar until suddenly a few Russian Mafia guys(security guard type Americans who are doing their best Ivan Drago)appear and want to close the bar because of mafia things. This results in a fight. Ireland wins.

4. Uh-oh, the Russians are dead! What happened? This non-linear narrative is confusing me! Oh wait, it's just Troy Duffy thinking he's a director again. Tarantino does things out of order, that's what makes him a good director right? No what makes him a good director is his attention to film detail, his incredible dialogue work, and his ability to evoke great performances from his players. You, Mr. Duffy, are using a gimmick. Good filmmakers alter narratives, but using altered narratives don't necessarily mean you're a good filmmaker.


5. Our host to the madness is good ol' Willem Dafoe...who SUCKS DICK in this movie both figuratively and literally. He plays an FBI agent who is called in to investigate these murders for no reason. It's treated as if it were the latest in a string of unsolved serial killings. It's not. As far as the local police can tell, the crime scene looks like a bar fight gone awry(which it was). So naturally they requested FBI assistance so that they could all stand around and read lines of dialogue ripped from a childhood game of Cops & Robbers. Dafoe treats us to a description of the crime coupled with a boring slo-motion(oooooooooooh, aaaaaaaah) depiction.


6. Did I mention that Willem Dafoe is gay for no reason? The script seems to call for him to be gay merely so that the film can portray yet another negative stereotype. Anywho, Dafoe fingers(not literally, although I'm sure he thought about it) the "Saints" for the murders and then sets them free. Ah yes the classic self-defense...uh..defense. Before they can be set free, however, they must spend the night in the world's leakiest prison cell. It is in their beds, under two identical leaks, that the "Saints" opt not to move their beds, and instead are "blessed" by the rain. Ya know, cuz Catholicism rules, just like Ireland. They look into each other's eyes and, without saying a word to each other, decide to buy a bunch of guns and become renegade killers for fun. The catch, they only kill criminals(like Dexter, only completely shitty in every way)

7. The formula continues from here. Willem Dafoe shows up at a crime scene, bitches at some cops for a bit, and then describes what happened. We see what happened. We move on. There are two scenes of note peppered into this mix. One is a scene where Italian Stereotype meets up with his Mafia boss and Ron Jeremy. He is made to tell an unfunny joke and is corrected by RJ and boss to use the term "Nigger" instead of "black guy" which is supposed to be funny. It's not. The other notable scene is one in which the "Saints" walk into a fully loaded arms cabinet(they know a guy, I guess) and inexplicably trade a watch, a beeper, and two handguns, for carte blanche access to take as muany guns and as much ammo as they can carry.



8. At this point our Saints have pissed off local mafiosos(the leader of which switches from an Italian accent to a Middle-Eastern accent flawlessly), and the mafia decides to call in "Il Duce", a killer so cold-hearted and evil, that he's the mafia's only hope to contain the Saints. He is being kept in a high-security prison, and must be shackled and caged just to be transported. He is paroled. Why? Cuz the script said he should be. Folks have argued that the mafia has the ability to use their "connections" to free this man as they please. If this is the case, why would this man that they keep shackled until they need him feel any desire to help the mob?


9. Willem Dafoe now treats us to yet another crime scene reenactment, only this time there are a few twists: One, Willem Dafoe acts out the scene along with the Saints, and two, his description of what happened is different than what actually happened. Dafoe believes the Saints were ambushed by six men with guns. WRONG! Actually they were ambushed by one man with six guns! I guess this is what made Il Duce so dangerous. He carries six guns! No wonder the mob called him in to help. This is where this already broken movie simply falls apart. Why would the mob send one guy in to ambush a place where they KNEW the Saints would be when they could have sent 50? I don't know. Why would four men with shit-tons of ammo shooting at each other from a distance of 10 feet be unable to kill each other? I don't know. I guess Il Duce isn't as dangerous as we once thought.



10. Willem Dafoe gets drunk, and is inspired to join the Saints. They welcome him via payphone and are captured by the mob soon after. Italian stereotype is killed. Boo hoo. Willem Dafoe gets wind of this, and within seconds, devises and enacts a plan to dress in drag and ambush the mob. Oh wait! NOW I know why he was written as gay. It was so it could easily be explained as to why Dafoe had such fast access to womens clothing. Good thing this plothole was explained. I was worried this movie would stop making sense.

11. Guess what? Il Duce is the Saints' father and everything's ok. How do we know this? Il Duce prays the same as the Saints. Good news, it seems having and insatiable bloodlust and a desire to be a dickhead runs in the family.

12. The newly founded trio steps into court(with the help of Dafoe) and murders the defendant because it's the right thing to do. And Ireland. Don't forget Ireland. Credits are rolled and I assume that none of the armed police officers in the courtroom found it appropriate to kill the Saints because there is apparently a sequel. I almost want to watch it. Almost.

PS. If you have to audacity to recommend this movie to me at any point PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEEEEASE do not act as if nobody has heard of this movie and you're some genius letting me in on a secret. Everyone has heard of this movie. EVERYONE. That's like recommending Starbucks to somebody as if it were a top secret coffee facility. Only I'd much rather drink Starbucks than watch The Boondock Saints.