115 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
(09/28/06 4:00am)
DVDREVIEW
Windy City Heat
3 and 1/2 stars
The human ego is a funny thing.
Fortunately for viewers, Tony Barbieri and Don Barris know how to exploit it.
With "Windy City Heat," Barbieri and Barris present to the world a project that is quite possibly the longest, most elaborate practical joke ever played.
Lasting for more than a decade and involving countless players including the likes of Dane Cook, Bobcat Goldthwait, Carson Daly and William "The Refrigerator" Perry, "Windy City Heat" focuses on the aspiring actor, Perry Caravello.
And it ends up being an hour and a half of hilarity at Caravello's expense.
Now, some might question the ethical implications of such an involved and committed prank and the destruction of a man's dreams.
But some haven't seen Caravello's boundless ego in action.
That man can do some yellin'. His almost-bipolar behavior makes him a hilarious character, but also diminishes sympathy for him, allowing the viewer to laugh away, almost guilt free.
Caravello also carries plenty of misogynistic and homophobic tendencies, which are constantly exploited, to great effect by the rest of the cast.
Sometimes the joke gets so obvious, the only thing keeping it going is Caravello's own delusion of greatness.
He compares himself to De Niro and Brando as if it meant nothing.
But what he doesn't realize is that his acting is horrible - and horribly funny to watch.
No matter how outrageous things get, Caravello continues to convince himself he's the next great movie star.
"I can see her being the girl I take to the Academy Awards," he says of a busty co-star.
He's a class act, for sure - and also a prime example of unintentional humor.
It's Caravello's egotism that makes the film such a highly entertaining display of dramatic irony.
It's also what makes Windy City Heat all the joy of pulling a prank, without any of the work.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(09/28/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
Sparklehorse
Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain
4 stars
With Dreamt For Light Years In The Belly Of A Mountain, Sparklehorse has created a musical monster.
And like all the classic monsters, all it wants is to be loved.
Opening with the sublime "Don't Take My Sunshine Away," Sparklehorse comes across as a lovelorn poltergeist, crooning sweet, vulnerable couplets through the static.
"Your face is like the sun sinking into the ocean/ Your face is like watching flowers growing in fast motion," croons Mark Linkous over an ethereal pop arrangement.
And the ghostly tone of the album continues, oozing sentimentality and pulling at heartstrings as Linkous' voice wanders wistfully, looking for love.
Not until the Superchunky rock-out of "Ghost in the Sky" is the listener lulled from this otherworldly trance.
Though it sticks out, the track feels like a welcome interlude from Sparklehorse's spectral heartbreak.
Only on "Ghost in the Sky" and "It's Not So Hard" does Sparklehorse deviate so abruptly from the dreamy ghost-pop that typifies Dreamt For Light Years, but in both cases the band manages to pull the songs into the album without too much awkwardness.
And the misfit rock songs lend the album a patchwork Frankenstein feel as well as adding extra sonic texture to the album before dropping back into the ghost-of-Brian-Wilson poppiness of tracks such as "Knives of Summertime" and "Don't Take My Sunshine Away."
And through all its sonic deviations, Dreamt For Light Years is still a thoroughly touching and enjoyable musical journey through heartbreak and longing, mournfulness and hopefulness, and beautiful instrumental moments tucked behind every hypnotic melody.
Danger Mouse stops by to twiddle some knobs. Tom Waits drops in to tickle the ivories on "Morning Hollow," but to the core, this is a Sparklehorse record, and it's Linkous' ethereal pop songs that make Dreamt For Light Years as great as it is.
As the album closes with the haunting atmospherics of its instrumental title track, Dreamt For Light Years fades out slowly, leaving lingering chills and the echo of a softly whispered "Please love me," in the ears of its spellbound listener.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(09/28/06 4:00am)
MOVIEREVIEW
"Jackass: Number Two"
3 Stars
With all the noise made by feminists and media critics about negative sexual stereotypes, unreasonable ideals, mixed messages or promotion of negative self-image, it is easy - and altogether tempting - to approach "Jackass: Number Two" with an eye to the social implications of the film and its portrayal of twenty-first century masculinity.
The film centers entirely on a group of males challenging one another to physical feats, in what is basically a competition of boldness and physical toughness.
Pain is laughed at and drowned in the beer supplied to the cast and crew by The Miller Brewing Company. And when one professional skateboarder cum Jackass cries due to physical pain or his phobia of snakes, he is harassed because, clearly, real men do not cry.
Even with the sometimes homoerotic phallocentrism or even near-sodomy of some of the stunts, the overarching tone is one of implied misogyny and homophobia. Homosexuality is something to be laughed at. Every kick in the crotch delivers as much emotional degradation as it does physical discomfort.
And that is glorified by the financial backing of a mainstream studio and distributor.
So should the inevitable copycat stunts, and their equally inevitable injuries, come as a surprise?
Of course not.
But does it even matter?
Not really.
Fact is, "Jackass: Number Two," despite its idiocy and schadenfreude, can fill a theater with a predominantly young, male audience's uproarious laughter.
And that's exactly what it aims to do.
That doesn't make the Jackass Crew a merry band of role models by any estimation, but it does show the cast to be savvy enough to realize that hyperbolic slapstick is just what the doctor ordered for most 15- to 17-year-old males.
And even those who don't see the movie will have seen it vicariously through stories that begin with "Dude, you should have seen when ." and end with ". It was sick as hell."
So let the social preachers decry "Jackass" for corrupting youth with its foul language and excessive depictions of various bodily secretions. In the end it's just entertainment.
As such, "Jackass" generally succeeds in what it sets out to accomplish - even if it might leave some viewers more than a little nauseous.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(09/28/06 4:00am)
CONCERTREVIEW
Jos
(09/28/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
The Matches
Decomposer
3 Stars
Somebody needs to tell The Matches that all their influences want their songs back.
And that the '80s ended more than a decade ago.
But the band's latest album, Decomposer, lives up to its name by digging up the music of another generation and then ripping it off.
Sure, the Talking Heads are great. And so is The Cure.
But when does homage become plagiarism?
Matches, do you save yourselves simply by adding a few Taking Back Sunday-style breakdowns and a little bit of Dwarves-esque abrasiveness?
In this case the answer seems to be "kind of."
The Matches have created an enjoyable album that stands out in the pop-punk genre.
There are intricate arrangements, tight harmonies and occasionally insightful lyrics.
But the similarities to other bands feel almost as if The Matches are trying to con their fans.
"Hey, Talking Heads wrote some great songs," they seem to say. "Let's take some of their riffs, write new words and add a breakdown, then sell it to teenagers who don't know any better."
If the album wasn't so darn catchy, it would be an outrage.
Every song feels like a collage of post-punk and new-wave nostalgia.
But the stolen riffs are so good, no matter who's playing them, it's going to be enjoyable.
And Decomposer's punk rock all-star team of producers brings out that little extra something that saves the record from complete mediocrity.
Rancid's Tim Armstrong adds a little ska influence in the rhythms of "You (Don't) Know Me," shaking things up with the off-beat accents.
And blink-182's Mark Hoppus sure knows how to bring out snotty bubblegum mall-punk.
So, when it's all combined with an '80s highlights reel and The Matches' predetermined MTV-core sound, we get something altogether pleasurable - even if its overt "borrowing" might cause some critics to cringe.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(09/28/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
Veruca Salt
IV
2.5 Stars
Veruca Salt is back to party like it's 1995.
IV, the band's first full-length album since 2000's Resolver, finds Veruca Salt at a strange point in its career.
Frontwoman Louise Post is the only remaining member of the original lineup, but the music still sounds more or less exactly the same as it did in the mid-'90s.
Sure there are new words and all, but it's hard not to expect "Seether" or "Volcano Girls" to show up on the track list.
Post still has that punk-rock acid in her voice as she wails her way through the album's 14 tracks.
The formula that made Veruca Salt successful in the first place is untainted. It's as if the band follows a strict "If it ain't broke, don't fix it policy," even at the risk of stagnation.
The same old punk riffs are there in every verse. Grungy fills and vocal harmonies still define Veruca Salt's choruses. Truthfully, it all still sounds pretty good.
It's just all been done before.
Most artists try to expand their craft with experimental ventures. Some work, some don't, but at least they try.
Here, Veruca Salt shows itself to be stuck in a rut.
And all the old accusations of copycatism are still valid. Half the time you could be listening to Hole and would never know the difference. Even the album's opening riff feels like a Nirvana throwaway.
But despite its shortcomings, it's really hard to hate this album.
Maybe it's nostalgia. Maybe it's the consistently solid nature of the album that, while repetitious, never truly fails outright.
There is something to be said about walking the beaten path - it gets you there safe and sound.
So really, the only criticism of IV is that it's a safe album. There's nothing risky here, and in that sense, it's enjoyable, if not wholly invigorating.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(09/21/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
Mastodon
Blood Mountain
3 Stars
Mastodons are extinct.
But the band whose name is taken from the prehistoric beast is far from dead.
In fact, with its latest LP, Blood Mountain, Mastodon seems poised to conquer the hard-rock world.
In the wake of 2004's critically acclaimed concept album, Leviathan, based on Herman Melville's classic novel, "Moby Dick," Mastodon seemed to have taken the metal throne with its almost unclassifiable mix of melody, prog rock and death metal.
But concept albums often don't make for good singles.
So, when the likes of "Headbangers Ball" came a-courtin', the song "Blood and Thunder" was played a lot.
Too much, some might argue.
But now, after signing a major label deal with Reprise, the band has released its most radio-ready album to date.
Song lengths are around three to five minutes, showing an airwave accessibility uncommon in progressive metal.
The vocals are more melodic, and even though there are still plenty of down-tuned thrash riffs, the overall feel is much more bland.
Mastodon might still be the best metal band on the radio, but gone is that little extra oomph of power and aggression that really set the band apart in the first place.
There are guest appearances by Queens of the Stone Age's Josh Homme and the Mars Volta's Cedric Bixler-Zavala, but they don't add much except to extend a hand to fans of the guest musicians.
Sure, there are still prog elements, and the guitars shred away as technically as ever, but it's just not as good as the band's earlier works - as trite as that might sound.
Is Blood Mountain enjoyable? Yes.
Can Mastodon do better? Definitely.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(09/21/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
The Rapture
Pieces of the People We Love
3.5 Stars
If an album could party, the latest from New York's The Rapture, Pieces of the People We Love, probably would have its own late-night show on E!.
The LP plays like an all-night binge complete with flashing lights, dark fog-filled rooms and writhing bodies.
The opening romp, "Don Gon Do It," swaggers its way past the velvet rope with a sly nod to the losers in line just before it saunters onto the dance floor with the confidence of a thousand Diddys.
And as the album hops from party to party, the listener is dragged along, grateful to be part of the adventure.
Pieces of the People We Love is a cocky VIP that lets you tag along as much to entertain as to show you just how cool it really is.
From track to track, The Rapture creates a new atmosphere, while keeping the album cohesive with its constant danceability and unwavering confidence.
Whether delving deep into electronica, as on "First Gear," or slicing out jagged guitar riffs, like on "Whoo! Alright-Yeah...Uh Huh," the band keeps the party going with a superhuman stamina.
The album is as much a workout as it is a rave.
But the listener is kept giddy and wide-eyed for the whole experience.
With a sense of utter fun and live-for-the-moment passion, the album knows it's great but also realizes that tomorrow could replace it. So it grabs the moment by the collar and makes it boogie till sunrise.
Cooling down a bit with the album closer, "Live In Sunshine," Pieces of the People We Love comes down easy and says goodbye with a knowing wink, as if to say, "You had a blast, and you know it."
What can one do but smile and nod in agreement?
The band's combination of post-punk, early '80s disco, house and new wave makes for a unique sound, best played at the kind of volume that shakes speakers and booties alike.
But what really matters here is that for 10 tracks, it is virtually impossible to remain stationary.
Inertia be damned.
No body can stay at rest when The Rapture comes.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(09/14/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
The Black Neon
Arts and Crafts
3.5 Stars
Somewhere between "A Space Odyssey" and Space Oddity is the latest album from Britain's The Black Neon.
The LP, Arts and Crafts, is the perfect soundtrack to your next road trip along the asteroid belt.
At times reminding listeners of other delightfully eccentric but widely loved British acts - David Bowie and Radiohead in particular - The Black Neon creates a spacey but wholly engaging album of keyboard-driven pop rock.
The album's third track, "Cast That Light," brings a remarkable memory cue of Bowie's "Space Oddity," without sounding at all like a rip-off.
The spaced-out weirdness of the whole album brings to mind a Radiohead record that hasn't been recorded yet: more organic than Kid A but more electronic than OK Computer.
And what makes Arts and Crafts particularly delicious is its ability to be a complete freakazoid and at the same time deliver moments of pop bliss, such as the handclaps and glammed-up vocal delivery on "TX81Z."
The delicate balance between weirdo spacey and infectious pop is what makes the record so enjoyable.
It's not run-of-the-mill by a long shot, but neither is it an inaccessible headache.
That is what gives The Black Neon the potential to appeal to art snobs and the general public alike.
The tracks on Arts and Crafts vary from hook-laden indie-pop songs ("Ralph and Barbara") to sci-fi chill-outs ("Ode To Immer Wieder") - all without feeling contrived or out of place.
Instead, The Black Neon is marked by multifaceted arrangements and maintains a cohesive style suitable for any setting.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(09/14/06 4:00am)
COMEDYALBUMREVIEW
Norm MacDonald
Ridiculous
0 stars
Norm MacDonald isn't funny.
Now that that's out there, let's examine the absolute failure of MacDonald's comedy album, Ridiculous.
Well, first, there aren't any good jokes.
And what's worse, MacDonald beats a dead horse repeatedly.
The miserable excuses for jokes titled "Gambling Sportscaster" and "World's First Two Gay Guys" come back like recurring nightmares over and over again to pound repeatedly into the skull of the unwitting listener.
Appearances by "Saturday Night Live" alumni Will Ferrell, Tim Meadows and Molly Shannon steal the spotlight from MacDonald but still struggle to keep Ridiculous afloat.
This all-star cavalcade of boring can't provide any laughs beyond a brief, stifled chuckle that is quickly replaced by a grimace of revulsion.
And MacDonald can't even make himself stand out above his lackluster co-stars.
He seems to be crouching in Adam Sandler's shadow, just like he did in "Billy Madison."
But while Sandler's brand of audio sketch comedy can garner a couple of juvenile laughs, MacDonald's attempt at the same staggers around for a while before keeling over and dying slowly and painfully.
After an hour and a quarter the CD finally spins itself out, allowing listeners to at last find some relief.
And when all the album format allows for is a level of vulgarity not permitted on any network, listeners must ask, "Is it worth it?"
And then, emphatically, respond with a resounding "no."
The foul dialogue doesn't even serve a comedic purpose - unless homophobia, bodily fluids and nauseatingly descriptive sexual dialogue is still funny after middle school.
At the beginning of the album closing "Hidden Track," MacDonald declares, "That bit's outdated. It's not even that funny."
But unfortunately he seems to have missed the memo that his description applies to his entire album.
And saddest of all, "Hidden Track" is easily the album's funniest.
The only thing 'ridiculous' about MacDonald's album is the idea that somebody might actually enjoy it.
MacDonald might be better off letting somebody else do the 'dirty work' next time.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(08/31/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
The Fall of Troy
The Fall of Troy
3.5 stars
Dear At The Drive-In,
I just wanted to let you know I've moved on. It's been obvious to me for some time, but our system is nonoperational.
First you went and broke into The Mars Volta and Sparta, the former growing increasingly self-indulgent and the latter kind of disappearing.
That was kind of selfish, you know. I thought we had something.
Your deliciously weird post-hard-core sound was unique and exciting. But I guess all good things must come to an end. And it's time for me to scatter the ashes.
I've met somebody new.
The Fall of Troy is everything to me you ever were, At The Drive-In: musically technical with mind-boggling shifts in time and key, filled to the brim with hard-core intensity, prog-rock weirdness and surprisingly memorable vocal hooks.
The Fall of Troy might be young - the self-titled debut was recorded when the band members were still in high school - but that only shows potential for greatness to come.
So what if the band could benefit from the assistance of a good producer. Who couldn't? And now that it has the backing of a solid label, it'll have it.
I'm just looking out for my future here.
The Fall of Troy can offer me all the overwrought song titles I could ask for, such as "Whacko Jacko Steals The Elephant Man's Bones" or "F.C.P.S.I.T.S.G.E.P.G.E.P.G.E.P."
So while you carry on about some "One Armed Scissor," I'll be rocking out to "Rockstar Nailbomb!"
But you know there always will be a place in my heart for you, At The Drive-In. Your influence is undeniable.
It's just that The Fall of Troy has picked up where you left off. And that's what I need right now.
I crave the prog elements you set the precedent for, but it doesn't hurt to add some Blood Brothers-esque hard-core to the mix. Especially when it feels as surprising and invigorating as it does on The Fall of Troy.
Songs such as "What Sound Does A Mastodon Make?" give me pure, screaming hard-core aggression with a focus on instrumental dexterity most bands only can wish for. Plus the song takes me places I never expected to go, such as into a syncopated, hip-shaking breakdown at the four-minute mark.
Sure, The Fall of Troy still has some growing up to do. The constant changes sometimes lose sight of the song itself, feeling a bit like an A.D.D. exercise in technical show-offery.
But I see a lot of promise in The Fall of Troy. And living with you is just living in the past.
At The Drive-In, we had a good run. This is what's best for both of us.
Please don't cry.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(08/24/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
RATATAT
4 Stars
Instrumental music is not every listener's cup of tea.
The lack of lyric melodies takes away the privilege of singing along. And on top of that, when placed in the pop realm, instrumental music easily can fall into repetitive monotony.
Fortunately, acts such as New York's electro-rock duo Ratatat have found a way to make instrumental music that is engaging without being too weird.
The nature of instrumental music makes standard pop structures irrelevant, often leading to self-indulgent excess, but where Ratatat succeeds is in maintaining accessibility.
And the group's sophomore album Classics manages to further improve on the already impressive precedent set by its self-titled debut.
While Ratatat was overtly electronic, Classics incorporates a more organic sound with the aid of strings, traditional piano and handclaps.
The bass lines are funkier, and the melodic hooks are stronger, making for an enjoyable listen through and through. The intro to "Loud Pipes" sounds as though it could be the background to a mid-'80s Michael Jackson hit, but then drops into a sparse piano melody with steady percussion and distorted guitar.
But Ratatat also manages to maintain its unique sound that is as atmospheric as it is danceable.
This dichotomy of tone makes Classics not only the rare instrumental album that holds its listeners' attention for the entire duration, but also one that fits a wide range of moods.
It can be a soundtrack to quiet introspection or a late-night dance party, depending on the listeners' mood and how loud they feel like playing it.
Often the two extremes are found within the same song. "Kennedy," for example, features a down-tempo atmospheric section, reminiscent of M83, but then launches into a handclap-fueled, hip-shaking outro.
"Swisha" then opens with a delicate acoustic guitar before adding Latin-inspired percussion.
But it's those interesting shifts and production tricks that make the record warrant repeated spins.
Classics is full of pleasant surprises for those willing to forgo the lyrics - at least for 42-and-a-half minutes at a time.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(08/24/06 4:00am)
MOVIEREVIEW
"ACCEPTED"
2.5 Stars
You've probably already seen "Accepted."
The plot is more or less 1994's "Camp Nowhere" aged approximately eight years.
But then again, some scenes feel as though they were taken from "Old School," and even then it's the ones that were borrowed from "Animal House" the first time around.
The standard teenage cast is all there: the nice guy protagonist who never wins, the pretty girl he pines for, his token black friend, the brainy female friend, the ill-tempered jocks and, oh yes, the fat kid.
And there's the predictably lame Hollywood ending.
But this time, instead of 30-something guys starting their own fraternity, or 11-year-old kids starting their own summer camp, you get the bright-eyed Bartelby Gaines (Justin Long of "Dodgeball") starting his own college, when none of his applications are accepted.
And of course hijinks ensue. But apparently - at least the filmmakers want you to believe - there's a lesson to be learned. And that begs the question: Is "Accepted" merely a low-brow teen comedy or a poignant social commentary in favor of alternative education?
Granted, the bodily fluids are kept to a minimum (for the genre), but it is, after all, rated PG-13. The fact of the matter is, a few too many bikini-clad coeds and "ask me about my wiener" jokes might make it funny, but dampen any moral teachings intended by the movie.
But none of that is to say "Accepted" isn't an enjoyable movie. There are some laughs to be had. Lewis Black makes an appearance as the angry, ranting Uncle Ben - or pretty much, as himself. And as clich
(08/24/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
ADEM
LOVE AND OTHER PLANETS
DOMINO RECORDS
3 and 1/2 stars
The latest record from Adem, British singer-songwriter cum multi-instrumentalist, sounds like a lot of things.
Maybe something Ben Gibbard would have a hand in.
The album keeps a steadily mellow tone, with understated vocals and emotional outpours.
Many times, such as on "Launch Yourself," the rhythms are off-kilter sound collages that sound like a more organic version of Gibbard's Postal Service.
But then again, Adem's vocals sound a bit more Coldplay than Death Cab.
And the cosmic themes of Love and Other Planets could have been borrowed from The Flaming Lips. One can't help but imagine the words, "but on a clear night, if you look close enough / You can just make out love and other planets. / We are not alone," coming from a sentimental Wayne Coyne.
But at other moments, the slightest hint of a country twang, as on "Crashlander," reminds listeners of My Morning Jacket or even Wilco.
Then there's the whole indie-rock-meets-folk aesthetic that can't help but call up images of Sufjan Stevens or Elliott Smith.
Point is, Adem is really just a kaleidoscope of familiar sounds.
There's nothing in here that hasn't been heard before.
But, much like Hamburger Helper, Adem takes something simple, comforting and familiar and turns it into something new - an indie rock casserole of sorts.
It's still easy to swallow, and comforting in its familiarity, but adds a little something new just by combining elements.
And despite the ease of accusing Adem of being derivative, the album holds up.
Interesting punctuations such as the wind chimes on the quietly atmospheric "Last Transmission From the Lost Mission," add layers to Adem's sound that easily could have been replaced or left off, but would lose the chilling effect he's crafted.
In the case of "Last Transmission," the twinkling wind chimes add a ghostly presence to the minimal synth fills behind Adem's whispered vocals.
Because of its meticulous production, Love and Other Planets is as enjoyable the second or third time around as it is the first.
The album also shows that Adem understands the No. 1 rule of pop music: Sometimes it really is OK to be accessible.
Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.
(08/24/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
BOYS LIKE GIRLS
BOYS LIKE GIRLS
2 and 1/2 stars
ON THE LAST DAY
MEANING IN THE STATIC
2 and 1/2 stars
Summer 2007: Following the release of their debut albums, Boys Like Girls and On The Last Day have joined Vans Warped Tour. Teenagers crowd near the stage. As the bands take the stage, a young boy and girl strike up a conversation:
Girl: Wow, I totally love Boys Like Girls. They sound a lot like all my other favorite bands: Relient K, Hellogoodbye, The Academy Is... - and all real punk rock bands.
Boy: I dunno babe, they're a little too poppy for me. I mean sure the vocal harmonies are pretty cool. But doesn't it all seem a little wussy?
Girl: They're not wussy, they're emo. It says so on their MySpace. They're totally in my 'Top 8'. Besides, their singer Martin Johnson looks sooo cute in those tight jeans. I don't care if they are made for girls.
Boy: I wear girl pants too. Wanna make out?
Girl: No way! I'm like, straightedge now. But I could really use a bottle of water. Too bad they're like a million dollars at the amphitheater.
Boy: Yeah, well, On The Last Day is up next. They're like hardcore and stuff.
Girl: How can you stand all that screaming?
Boy: It's better than all the whining your bands do. Besides, they don't only scream. They sing too. But Geoffrey Walker's singing voice can be a little grating. It's like he wants to be the guy from AFI, but doesn't quite have the theatricality to pull it off.
Girl: Sounds pretty lame.
Boy: Well, maybe if you don't like real rock music. Besides, you like Hawthorne Heights, and they scream.
Girl: Touch
(08/23/06 4:00am)
In the year 2006, it often feels like everybody and their grandmother has a Web site. But until recently one fixture of the Chapel Hill arts scene did not.
The Varsity and Chelsea movie theaters, both owned by Bruce Stone, have only had an Internet presence for two months.
The Web site, chelseavarsity.com, features showtimes and coming attractions, as well as brief synopses of films and some information about the theaters.
Filmgoers still will have to arrive on time to get tickets - the Chelsea and Varsity theaters do not offer online ticket ordering.
"We don't want to get too sophisticated," Stone said. "We don't even do credit cards. That's kind of how retro we still are."
But Stone admitted that part of the reason behind going on the Web was to keep up with the times and to provide a service to customers, making it easier to find information.
For Glenn Boothe, owner of the Franklin Street concert hall Local 506, the ease of finding information is the No. 1 priority.
"Our Web site is a little different because it just goes straight to the schedule," he said. "I think like 90 percent of people are just going there to see who's playing anyway."
But he also acknowledged the importance of having a Web site. "For a club I think it's almost mandatory. It's sort of the bare minimum we can do to promote our shows."
Local 506 also has experimented with a podcast, but it has since been discontinued because of a lack of response.
The MySpace phenomenon also has become an integral part of the local entertainment business. Local 506, VisArt Video, Wetlands Dance Hall, Cat's Cradle and Schoolkids Records all have MySpace profiles, which allow MySpace users to become more connected to the venues they frequent.
But Boothe says local506.com is probably the best place for customers to get information on the club, while MySpace has become an essential tool for contacting and booking bands. Many musical acts use sites such as MySpace and purevolume.com as a means of free self-promotion.
But the question remains how making local business accessible to the whole world on the Internet affects the "local charm" of the Chapel Hill community.
"I think it enhances the local charm," Stone said. "You see the employees standing there with the popcorn and everything - you see the fa
(08/22/06 4:00am)
For those who don't know where it is, the Cat's Cradle is easy to miss. It sits to the far right in a small Carrboro shopping center, shaded by a blue awning matching those of its neighbors.
Its fa
(08/19/06 4:00am)
June 8 - Somewhere between The Dead Kennedys and Pavement lies many a band bridging the divide between punk and indie rock as we know them.
You had your Minutemen and Jawbreaker. Your Gang of Four and Wire. You even had your latter-day Black Flag.
But arguably the most exciting band in this punk-but-not-really category was Boston's Mission of Burma.
The band created disjointed post-punk filled with distortion and feedback that still felt melodic.
(04/27/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
Minmae
Le Grand Essor del la Maison du Monstre
3.5 Stars
When Minmae's newest album, Le Grand Essor de la Maison du Monstre, hits shelves, I imagine small record shops across the country will be filled with conversations that go a little something like this:
Record Store Clerk: I will now sell four copies of Le Grand Essor de la Maison du Monstre by Minmae.
Clerk No. 2: Go for it.
(Clerk No. 1 plays the record.)
Customer: Who is this?
Clerk No. 1: Minmae.
Customer: It's good.
Clerk No. 1: I know.
And it's true.
(04/20/06 4:00am)
MUSICREVIEW
Junior Varsity
Superheroes
Thursday Night Game
2 Stars
The Durham-based band Junior Varsity Superheroes likes to make music that is intelligent but unpretentious and catchy.
So, the making of Thursday Night Game must not have been that enjoyable for the band.
Many of the tracks feature ill-advised arrangements and forced lyrics.
So much for catchy.
Techno-synthesizer beats straight out of a club mix circa 1996 create a childish kitsch sound that makes listeners want to play laser tag and draw cartoons in the margins of notebooks.