October 2010

30. Youth In Revolt (Miguel Arteta) - 5.75/1029. Chloe (Atom Egoyan) - 5.75/10

28. The Runaways (Floria Sigismondi) - 6/10

27. The Book of Eli (Hughes Brothers) - 6.25/10

26. Restrepo (Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger) - 7.25/10

25. City Island (Raymond de Felitta) - 7.25/10

24. The Girl Who Played With Fire (Daniel Alfredson) - 7.25/10

23. The Kids Are All Right (Lisa Cholodenko) - 7.25/10

22. I'm Still Here (Casey Affleck) - 7.25/10

21. Green Zone (Paul Greengrass) - 7.25/10

"Wrong the Right," the opening track from Screen Door Porch's eponymous debut record, comes off like a Williamsbugian version of a classic Lucinda Williams track. A twangy, soulful cut, the "Wrong" is at once timeless and hip, filled with youthful spirit and age-old playing.

Seadar Rose and Aaron Davis, the gritty and pretty duo who make up Screen Door Porch, though based out of Jackon, Wyoming, spend time here and there (often in Austin, Texas), finding much of their inspiration on the road, squatting and exploring. You can feel the rambling heart in their folksy sound, which could best described as Whiskeytown-era Ryan Adams-meets-Lucinda (and maybe a bit of Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, too). Despite all their travels, Screen Door Porch have yet to play in Fort Wayne, a city where folk-spirited acts often do quite well.

Tops at the Box: Shot on a $3 million budget by director Tod Williams (The Door in the Floor) and starring all unknowns, Paranormal Activity 2 took last weekend's No. 1 spot, bringing in a surprising $41.5 million over its first three days, averaging over $12,000 per screen. If you've seen the trailer and the first film, then you pretty know much know what you're getting: a ever-so-slight Hollywood remake disguised as a sequel. The production value is nudged up just enough to not lose the DIY factor of the first film and the thrills are more effective and often. All together, it's a better made film, though the novelty of the inventiveness (yes, I do feel weird saying that about these movies) of the first film isn't here. Given that halloween is right around the corner, look for PA2 to continue making decent bread for a couple more week. (For the record, ScreenTime thinks the flick is a waste of time, money and resources. Another recent Hollywood horror remake, Let Me In, on the other hand, is excellent.)

The Freebie (Now Playing) - When I first saw the Duplass Brothers' The Puffy Chair all those years ago I left the rolling credits feeling very excited. Not only did I love Mark Duplass and the whole Slackavettes movement, but Duplass' real life wife, actress Katie Aselton (pictured below) was the cutest young adult female actress I'd seen in ages. And not only is/was she a gorgeous former beauty pageant winner (Miss Teen USA runner up), but she seemed to have a huge natural ability when it came to playing seemingly real-to-life characters who actually do and say the things real people do and say. So I did my best to keep an eye out for her, only seeing her one time since, in a bit role on "The Office." So when I read about The Freebie months ago, I was stoked. Not only was Aselton the star, but she wrote and directed the film, which is produced by her awesome husband, Mark. And yeah, she's a cute girl, but she also has something that no one else working has right now and, from what I can tell, that rare appeal is ... [Continued]

Written by G. William Locke

SCREENTIME: FALLING FOR "TREME"

October 20, 2010

Tops at the Box: I've always considered myself to be a fan of the lowlife version of alternative pop culture. I like punk rock and used to skateboard; I've broken laws, read plenty of Bukowski, voted for the Green Party and passed out on a few sidewalks. Who hasn't? But one thing I don't understand is all these pseudo-punks in the Jackass films. They strut around like modern day cowboy/punk rock hybrids, portraying themselves as devil-may-care Johnny Rotten types, bashing each other up, bleeding all over, jamming things into their privates, eating the uneatable and nearly dying on a daily basis. Rubbish. I'm not buying. But hey, this is entertainment, so I can't complain too much now, can I? (But I can put these idiots and what they do into perspective.) All that said, the latest Jackass flick, Jackass 3D, kicked all kinds of box office booty this past weekend, taking the No. 1 spot with $50 million over its first three days - the biggest opening in a good long while. Do the punks at the ScreenTime office hate the Jackasses? Nah, not really. But we do find it funny that people go watch this sort of stuff on the big screen when they could be watching, say, The American at the dollar theater.

At the time called a "comeback record" for the then-focused-father John Lennon, Double Fantasy went on to be one of the most storied releases of 1980. Not only was the record Lennon's final release before he was murdered, but the disc won a number of Album of the Year awards, featured a handful of radio staples and was the first major release that had people believing that a domesticated rocker could still make interesting, cool music. It was, as many said at the time and have said since, the first great midlife rock record - hold the crisis. The 30 years since its release, however, haven't been so kind to the album. Comprised of seven originals each from Lennon and his wife, Yoko Ono, many have joked about the obnoxious task of having to skip every other song. Also, the often cheesy 80s production sound hasn't done well for ears over the years, making it hard for new generations to get into the dated sounding production.

Four cooler-than-you girls, three from Cali and and one from (I'm guessing) England, took the latter part of a decade to perfect their shoegaze-meets-prog sound, the result being their debut full-length, The Fool. (One of the gals, drummer Stella Mozgawa, is new. Actress Shannyn Sossamon was the original drummer, followed by a number of stand-ins.) The longstanding core trio of friends, Emily Kokal (vocals, guitar), Theresa Wayman (guitars, vocals) and Jenny Lee Lindberg (bass, vocals), are the true California girls, Wayman being the bashful gal who offed herself in The Rules of Attraction and Lindberg the sister of Sossamon. Oh, and I think Kokal dated someone famous for a while - maybe a Red Hot Chili Pepper. So yes, these are cool girls who ooze charisma and stage presence and make very watchable music videos (check out the super cool "Stars" for proof). But who cares about actresses and videos and sisters; can the Warpaints make albums that are worth buying and listening to, or are they just good on paper and screen?

Well, for starters, this music on The Fool isn't simple stuff. These girls aren't The Long Blondes, The Dum Dum Girls or The Vivian Girls. Warparint are heavily influenced by a number of the best bands from the 1980s - the ones who made big, dense productions. Bands like Cocteau Twins, The Sundays, Kate Bush, Dead Can Dance and even The Cure, amongst others, come to mind as The Fool's nine tracks pass by. The songs, all made to set hazy midnight moods, rely heavily on their constant drone and powerful vocals, which, in a way, often remind of The Bends-era Thom Yorke. Oh, and sometimes Bjork, depending on who sings (Kokal is the lead, but everyone keeps a mic close by).

In the past seven or so days (okay, let's call it 10ish, just to be safe), we at the Ze Cat offices have been drowning in awesome newness. Movies, books, films, funny things on the Internet, good food, cool new YouTube finds, a new pair or shoes we found online that we hope we get for Christmas, etc. The general greatness of 2010. We even found three jobs to apply for that we think - nay, hope - would be pretty solid ways to make a buck. Will we get interviews? Ha! Suuuure we will.

For starters, we have the new Sufjan Stevens album, The Age of Adz, which is beautifully baffling and fun. We've been digesting and studying that crazy sucker for about six hours a day since last Friday. Sooooo good. Soooo interesting. And cool cover, too.

ALBUMS WE'VE BEEN PLAYING THIS WEEKDirty Projectors - Bitte Orca Reissue (The Bonus Disc) - B-

Sufjan Stevens - The Age of Adz - A

Andrew Cedermark - Moon Deluxe - B+

Alyosha Het - The Purgatourist - B-

Mogwai - Special Moves

John Lennon / Yoko Ono - Stripped Down - B+

No Age - Everything In Between - A-

Tops at the Box: David Fincher's "Facebook movie," The Social Network, took the No. 1 spot at the box office again last weekend, bringing in another $16 million, upping its 10-day total to $46 million in the U.S. I've seen the flick twice, and both times was painfully aware that the majority of the people in the theater with me were not liking the movie. As it's a film for people who like well written and well played dialogue, I don't expect the movie to do too well come home video release time. It'll sell $80 or so million in the U.S., a decent number of tickets overseas and rent well for a few weeks, but, mostly, Network will likely go down as an awards season film. Look for Fincher and writer Aaron Sorkin, especially, to take home some statues.

More From the Box: Awful-looking romantic comedy Life as We Know It took the No. 2 spot last weekend, bringing in just under $15 million over its first three days, while the very cheesy Secretariat took the No. 3 spot, bringing in about $13 million over its opening weekend. Animated flick Legend of the Guardians (gags) took the No. 4 spot with another $7 million and Wes Craven's first 3D film, My Soul to Take (which is somehow getting strong reviews), rounded out the Top 5 with just under $7 million over its first three days. Wow, The Social Network aside, what a lousy crop of movies. Don't worry, the big studios are just emptying out their queues before they start in with the fall/winter blockbusters and awards season flicks. Hope is on the horizon (we hope). ScreenTime favorite Let Me In upped its two week total to just under $10 million. Maybe not as good as the original, but a damn film good regardless.

Tops at the Box: I’ve been fighting with friends for weeks about The Social Network, director David Fincher’s new movie about Mark Zuckerberg, the bratty kid who invented Facebook. The naysayers all seem to be laughing at the same joke, calling the movie “The Facebook Movie,” implying that someone actually made a movie about status updates, wall conversations and photos of daughters in their undies. C’mon, would David Fincher, at the height of his career, really waste his time anything but golden scripts? A campus-set movie about some young brainiacs who start a company that not only makes billions of dollars, but changes the way we communicate - a great subject for a movie. Add to that the combo of Fincher and writer Aaron Sorkin and, in our opinion, you have a must-see film. Not too surprisingly, given the current competition, the film took the No. 1 spot this past weekend, bringing in $23 million over its first three days. Looking around the theater before the movie started I saw a surprisingly young, Hangover type of crowd. I wondered if these would really be the kids who would appreciate and understand the film, or if they, too, thought they were about to see “The Facebook Movie.” Needless to say, through most of the movie I felt like I was the only one getting all the great jokes and humorous nuances or Sorkin’s script. Walking out afterwards I heard the kids complaining about the naps they just took. The wrong people are seeing this movie, it seems. Hopefully the cinephile set, recognizes the facts, shaves their cool beards and shapes up and gets out to the theatre to see this excellent flick about a bratty and unstoppable young genius. One of the best American films of the year, for sure. 

I stood frozen at a Super Target, cleverly packaged cookies, crackers and macaroni in my basket, looking at CDs and DVDs. Bored and kind of lazy. I wanted to get a title that I could thoughtlessly review while drinking beers in the basement. Maybe a hip-hop record? Nah. Maybe that new Katy Perry album!? Meh. Inspired by the great design of my new Archer Farms macaroni box, I figured I'd keep it somewhat real and buy an album from someone I at least believed in when I was younger and dumber. Feeling nostalgic, I - possibly foolishly - decided to have a Weezer-filled fall season. Knowing that the two-disc super reissue of Pinkerton was on the way (as is an Odds and Sods type of collection called Death to Metal), I decided to start the season with Hurley, the band's eighth proper album. 

Raditude, their final album for Geffen Records, was the first Weezer album I didn't buy. I read about the album, which featured collaborations with every idiot on the pop charts, heard a single or two and decided to break my loyalty right there. But Hurley, which sees the band now on Epitaph Records (who call themselves an "indie label," though not by my standards), is supposedly a return to form. Yeah, heard that one before, Weez. Supposedly Epitaph, in all their radical indie glory, allowed the Weez 100 percent creative freedom.

Produced by Shawn Everett, Hurley's production style is more fitting than the band's last few efforts, even if it's not quite a return to the indie-friendly sound of their first two records. The songs, eight of which were co-written with people outside the band, instantly seem like - at least as far as subject matter and attitude goes - a blatant attempt to return to those glorious years in the 1990s. The problem with that approach is that these are now fully grown men who, let's face it, seem like fools singing songs for seventh graders. The two best songs on the record, "Run Away" and "Time Flies," co-written by ... [Continued]

Over the first half of No Age's third full length, Everything In Between, band members Randy Randall (guitars, vocals) and Dean Allen Spunt (drums, vocals) remind me of - one song at a time - a number of my all-time favorite lo-fi bands. Nouns, their breakthrough second album (and first for Sub Pop Records), saw the duo really going for it, attempting to be not just a great pedal-heavy indie noise-pop band, but ready to be the next big thing. I remember thinking, no matter how cliche it felt, that Nouns could make No Age the "Next Nirvana/White Stripes," or whatever. Ridiculous, right? The "Next Dinosaur Jr." was and is probably more realistic. Here they're something else entirely.  

"Glitter," the record's instant standout, comes off as a more macho version of Stephen Malkmus singing over modern-era Yo La Tengo. The song feels like a new indie classic regardless of the similarities, made perfect for cool, youthful movies like Larry Clark's 1995 alt-generation classic, Kids. "Fever Dreaming," too, has a Yo La sound, but only when Ira is doing his wannabe garage rock thing. Another instant standout, "Common Heat," owes its cutesy vocal and phrasing style to Daniel Johnston. Normally the obvious similarity would be a bummer, but since Johnston has only ever had success at the blueprint level of recording, this fully realized bit of oddball pop is more than welcomed. They pull it off.

Indianapolis indie rockers Marmoset are the relative you don't mind having visit for the weekend. They come in softly, warm up the room with fuzzy and familiar vibes, give you a few micro-memories, then move on before you tire of them. Tea Tornado, the trio's fourth proper full-length release of their 14 year existence, is a return to the glory of their first two records, almost as if 2007's sometimes frustrating and confusing Florist Fired never happened. The songs are again retro and brief, coming off like a slacker/garage version of a Wire/Swell Maps supergroup.

Unlike Guided by Voices, who also made short, Brit-rock influenced indie pop, Marmoset craft their songs carefully, using the most of the two or so minutes their songs average in runtime. The devout 60s vibe of Record In Red (the band's signature album) isn't as important here as it once was to the group before 2009. They lean on the past carefully, presenting their own timeless cool - which is to say that they're not too cool to make instantly hummable pop songs, but are cool enough to make sure everything they do is anything but ordinary. Similar to Wire or even a Spoon record like Kill the Moonlight, Jorma Whittaker, Dave Jablonski and Jason Cavan take one of perhaps the most difficult approaches to pop music over Tea Tornado's 14 tracks, using minimalist songs that always surprise with their strange yet simple ideas. It's the kind of record that leaves similar sounding musicians scratching their heads, asking "why didn't I think of that?"

Recorded during the coldest months of the year in Alberta, Canada with producer Chad Van Gaalen, Women's sophomore record, Public Strain, instantly feels cold and blue. As the ambiance of opener "Can't You See" circles around singer Patrick Flegel's vocals, I picture myself in a car somewhere, sitting with shivers and cold, foggy breath as snow peppers my windshield. That I don't own a car and it's just now fall doesn't matter. I love the still, slowness of January and, even more so, I love noisy art rock with buried melody.

And then, before I can get a sweater out, "Heat Distraction" kicks in, armed with chime-y guitars and vocals made for the skateboard days of summer. The drone-heavy song, which is anything but radio-ready, is Women at their most accessible. Fuzzy and thick, the music of Women makes for a tough-as-hell game of Name That Influence. The layered vocals feel like distant chants and the noise-based compositions sound like a modern American version of 70s Krautrock. As songs swirl and hum, Duluth rockers Low come to mind, but only if Low focused less on vocal harmonies and more on gigantic, bass-heavy walls of Velvet Underground-era noise.

It's no secret that Indianapolis indie rockers Marmoset are not only our favorite Indiana band ever, but one of our favorite bands, period. It's long saddened us that we've not been able to get their classic debut record, Today It's You, on LP. Needless to say, we were very stoked when we saw the below project on Kickstarter. We pledged right away, and hope you'll consider doing the same. Great album by a great band.

From Kickstarter:

When British writer Nick Hornby’s name is attached to something, especially something having to do with music, I get excited. This mostly because his 1995 novel, High Fidelity, is one of the fictional stories closest to my heart. This also because the man understands not just music, but the people who love music - and pop culture - the most. So when I saw that he was writing songs for an album to be recorded by Ben Folds, an artist I once loved but have long been bored to tears with, I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best. How bad could it be, really?

Once the album was in my hands I studied it’s every detail, figuring that this action would be exactly what Hornby would expect out of any “serious” music enthusiast. I noticed that the cover had a 70s import vibe and the disc looked like one of Stevie Wonder’s classic albums. Other details too. Mostly, I took note of two things: 1) Hornby included an e-mail Folds had written him within the liner notes (more on that later); and 2) Hornby wrote a paragraph or so about each of the songs on the album. He and Folds also included all the musician notes (which should be mandatory, in my opinion, for every album) and lyrics, almost all of which read through like short stories. Before even putting the disc in the player I was in love; Folds and Hornby really worked to present the album in a music fanatic-friendly way. Lonely Avenue, the Folds/Hornby collaborative album, was, it seemed, a record made for people who love records.

Opener "I Didn't See It Coming," featuring lead vocals by, I'm told, actress Carey Mulligan (An Education), is best heard through headphones. If played on your stereo or computer or in your car, you'll miss all the best parts of the song - frontman Stuart Murdoch's subtle backing harmonies and, mostly, layer after intricate layer of cutesy flourishes. Perfectly well written and composed, the lead vocals don't work as well as they should; a shock when you consider how well Murdoch worked with guest female vocalists on his God Help the Girl side project. It's sad to see such an otherwise great pop song soiled by a guest vocal that needn't be. (Mulligan or not, the vocal doesn't work.)

Write About Love, the eighth proper studio record from Glasgow indie poppers Belle & Sebastian is focused, you guessed it, on the endlessly interesting topic called love. Recorded once again with American producer Tony Hoffer, who handled duties on the band's last record, the excellent The Life Pursuit, Write About Love again sees the band in big and full mode, here mixing the preciousness of their early records with the power of, say, The New Pornographers. Murdoch again playing the role of creative honcho (as he should have been all along), the songs are all well written and composed, if not as effectively as the band's last two proper releases.

I'm proud to admit that I own at least one copy of everything Deerhunter-related, including the overrated 1978 Michael Cimino war-era drama. To me, Deerhunter frontman Bradford Cox is what we all sit around tailking about: an artist who knows what came before, digested it and found a way to produce something new-yet-familiar that is forever covered, front to back, with his unique fingerprints. No one has ever sounded like Bradford Cox before, but he's really not doing anything too weird or difficult, especially on this record, Halcyon Digest, the fifth proper Deerhunter full length (that's counting the band's impossible-to-get debut and the obscure Carve Your Initials Into the Walls of the Night). The Deer's last record, 2008's double album, Mircocastle/Weird Era Continued, saw the Atlanta-based rockers taking leaps towards a more commercially accessible sound, a jump that continues on Halcyon.

The result is a sound that would've once been described as "college rock radio," but now, because it is both straightforward and strange, is harder to classify. Neither a proper Pitchfork/blog-era band or Rolling Stone outsider champion, Deerhunter could almost be described as a Radiohead-aware garage band with a kinda/sorta girly singer. That is, a garage band with some pretty cool tricks and toys, and a leader with lyrics and vocals too good to be screamed or buried in the mix.