I got a, *ahem*, pre-release copy of Sam's Town a few days ago (I won't tell you how I got it, for fear of getting arrested).

For all the talk about the Killers trying to emulate Springsteenian epic-grit rock on this new album, the attribute that stands out more--at least after my first listen or two--is Brandon Flowers' obvious attempt at channeling Ric Orcasek. That, and the fact that a few tracks sound very Queen-ish.

Not that I'm complaining, Springsteen, Cars, and occasional Queen fan that I am. But best album of the past 20 years? I'mma have to give it a few more listens, 'cause right now I'm not seeing it (sorry, Flowers). There are still some great tracks, though.

Next up: The Decemberists' The Crane Wife, which is the day's new release that I'm really looking forward to hearing.


UPDATE @ 9:43pm: After a few more spins, I've decided that the best song on the album--and maybe their best, period--is the Cars-inspired "Read My Mind." I predict it'll be a monster hit in a few months, so listen to the song now and enjoy it before the radio stations overplay it to death.

UPDATE @ 2:01am: Relax, Mom. I'm not really going to get arrested.

I got a last-minute invitation from Colette to join her in seeing the Off-Broadway show "Fools in Love" yesterday evening. I cannot begin to tell you how glad I am that I got to go--I honestly don't remember the last time I laughed so hard.

You know you're about to see something incredibly fun when cast members are offering face painting and fake tattoos to audience members before the show. Not to mention a pre-show hula-hoop competition (no, I didn't win).

The show itself is a modernized musical version of Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," done up in a 1950's motif (complete with poodle skirts, pink hair-dos, doo-wop, and a diner). The show retains the original Elizabethan dialogue (with a smattering of "modern" lines thrown in here and there for added humor) but uses the 50's sets and props, and animated actors, to breath new life into the old play. I wasn't sure if they'd be able to pull it off. The all-but-the-dialogue modernizing of Shakespeare has been done way too many times before--with varying degrees of success, to be sure, but altogether the concept is starting to feel a bit old. As is the 50's diner-and-jukebox musical. I was curious to see if it would work this time.

It did. It so did. The show was absolutely manic (manic, I tells you), with nary a dull moment to be found. It was a high energy show with well-cast actors making some really good choices, and a fantastic interpretation of the original script. The four main characters (Helena, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius) were dressed in their 50's garb the entire time (as were the Chorus-like doo-woppers that broke into classic 50's pop songs every couple of minutes), but apart from them, characters were dressed in wild costumes that could easily have been designed by Hunter S. Thompson. Seriously. For example, Oberon (the king of the fairies) was dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket, and was wearing an Elvis-style glasses-and-sideburns combo, a crown, a pair of goat horns coming out of his head, a pair of black feathered wings on his back, and a belt buckle with a light-up LED screen that spelled out various things throughout the show.

The majority of laugh-until-your-stomach-hurts laughs came from watching Ryan Knowles, who played Nick Bottom (the guy that gets turned into a donkey). Talented, brilliant, and absolutely insane--he reminded me of Jim Carrey with his facial contortions and limbs a-flailing--and I for one couldn't stop laughing nearly every moment he was on stage. Methinks this guy is going to be huge someday.

All of this craziness and silliness served a deeper purpose, though. The theater company that produces "Fools in Love" is committed to introducing the works of Shakespeare to young children who've never heard of the Bard, retaining the original dialogue but making the story accessible to them. The director and founder of the company is a teacher in the Bronx, and she wanted to give under-privileged kids a chance to see--and enjoy--Shakespeare (and not only Shakespeare, she said, but live theater, and even Manhattan, as weird and sad as it is to think that these kids would not otherwise get a chance to cross the Harlem River). I think it's amazing what they're doing, and I think the show worked not only as children's theater but as a hysterical retelling of "Midsummer Night's Dream."

Bravo.

I'm about half-way through my crazy month-long concert-hopping endeavor, and this week's shows have not disappointed. A few thoughts and recollections, now, about the pair of Webster Hall shows attended by yours truly:

Interpol - Sunday Night: I raced into Manhattan after the post-sunnyside@seven social hour, and thankfully made it to the venue within minutes of Interpol taking the stage. The place was absolutely, ridiculously packed--I felt lucky not to be completely up against the back wall. Interpol takes the stage, and the crowd goes into a frenzy. A serious frenzy. The last time I saw folks get this fired up for a band was at last year's Franz Ferdinand show at Roseland, and before that, when the Beatles played the Ed Sullivan Show back in '64 (or was it '65? I can never remember anymore).

It was a good set, though I started to get a bit bored during the last third of it. They played nearly every song off of Antics (still my favorite album of '04), and several off of their 2002 debut, Turn On the Bright Lights. The band played proficiently--almost as if they were in a trance--making sure not to get too visibly excited about anything. That said, the whole act did seem to have a sort of pretentiousness to it. Don't get me wrong, I loved that they were all rocking out in their suits with skinny ties (someday I'd like to be in a band that wears suits), but the incessant chain-smoking throughout the evening and the very limited amount of stage banter (not to mention bassist Carlos D seemingly striking a certain pose--head turned, chin up, eyes closed, lips in a self-assured cig-holding sneer--every possible moment; unrelatedly, it hit me at some point during the evening that Carlos D really looks like the hipster version of George McFly)...well, I think maybe it was all a little too cool for me.

But overall, a great show, and one that I enjoyed thoroughly: the music was excellent and translated well live; the stage lighting was, hands down, some of the best I've ever seen at a rock show; and the band pretty much had the audience eating out of its hands from the moment it took the stage. The band members may not have appeared overly excited, but their electrifying music certainly made up for it.

The Decemberists - Tuesday Night: Last night I retured to Webster to see The Decemberists (and like Interpol, this was my first time seeing them live). I got to the entrance and found my friend (and NYU colleague) Jay working the door. He hooked me up with a VIP pass that put me in the lounge on the left-hand side of the balcony. I could look out over the entire floor, and I had a pretty great view of the entire stage. By the time the band took the stage, the floor was again packed (though not as much as it was on Sunday night).

If Interpol was the epitome of cool and calculating, the Decemberists were anything but. Stage banter would go on for minutes at a time, often delving into very silly comments ("It's so hot in here, my water's sweating" violinist Rachel Blumberg said at one point, holding up her bottled water), and various band members would often take a few minutes to re-tune their instruments between songs, allowing for a rather awkward bit of silence here and there.

BUT. In the end, these guys put on one of the most entertaining shows I've seen in a long while. The setlist contained many songs off this year's Picaresque, the stand-out performances including "The Engine Driver," "We Both Go Down Together," "The Sporting Life," and from Her Majesty, The Decemberists, "Song for Myla Goldberg" and "The Chimbley Sweep." All of these songs sounded like faithful and energized interpretations of the lush album versions, and the positive crowd response seemed to intensify with each number. They closed out the main set with a daft performance of "The Chimbley Sweep" that stretched the 4-minute song into something of a 15-minute romp on (and off) stage. Words don't do it justice, but in the course of those 15 minutes, lead singer Colin Meloy (who looks like Charlie Sheen with glasses and an MA in English) did the following things: he picked up a cell phone that was left onstage, called a random number, and had the audience scream for the receiving party; he crowd-surfed for a few seconds; he then waved his arms over each member of the band who, in turn, fell down and played "dead" on the stage (all the while still playing their instruments, breaking out into short renditions of "Smoke on the Water" and that Jewish song where people shout "Le Chaim!"...someone help me out here?); he then turned to the crowd and did the same thing until everyone in the audience was playing dead, and then--and only then--did they finish the song, already being played at a raucous, breakneck speed.

I won't even go into the encore, except that it involved a huge paper whale and the drummer pounding a detached tom in the middle of the stage as hard as he could, as if part of some tribal ritual. By the end of the show, the crowd was going absolutely nuts--it even seemed to eclipse the noise level of the crowd at the Interpol show two nights prior. Again, a serious frenzy.

I really enjoyed both shows, though I think you can tell which one I preferred just a bit more.

After hearing nothing but superlatives and glowing reviews for the show over nearly two years, I finally got to see Wicked with Jonathan last night.

It was well worth the wait.

The expectations were high enough; this was the show that I (and everyone, for that matter) expected would run away with the Tony for Best Musical in 2004. That award ended up going to Avenue Q, which I thoroughly enjoyed seeing last November. But people always seemed to be more passionate in their praise for Wicked than Avenue Q, and considering that the tickets for the show have been extremely difficult to obtain, I was anxious to finally see it, and ready to be blown away. Or at least thoroughly entertained.

I thought the show took a while to really get going, but once it did near the middle of the first act, it was engrossing. The show crafts the backstory that leads up to, around, and beyond the storyline of its source, The Wizard of Oz, giving you the "behind the scenes" story, in a sense. You come away with a slightly altered view of Oz (for better or for worse), but either way, it's fun to see how the musical connects the dots with the original story. As Jonathan points out in his review (he beat me to the punch this afternoon), the show's mission statement is summed up by something the Wizard of Oz (played by Broadway legend Ben Vereen) said near the end: "It's not lying; it's seeing something in a different light."

Speaking of Vereen, it was fun to see him on Broadway again, though there wasn't a whole lot to his role as the Wizard (random fact: the very first Broadway show I saw, Fosse in 2001, starred Vereen). More impressive was Rue McClanahan (yes, Blanche from Golden Girls), and the two leading ladies, Megan Hilty as Glinda, and Saycon Sengbloh, who filled in as the Wicked Witch. It seemed to take a while for Sengbloh to find her groove, and perhaps that's what held the show back at first--once she found it, the show really took off.

Overall, I'd say that I enjoyed Wicked more than Avenue Q, or a number of other Broadway shows I've seen in the last year, for that matter. There's a lot more heart and a lot more truth to be found in this show than in much of what's on Broadway these days. Of course, given the show's success, you know it'll only be a matter of time before Hollywood gives it the silver screen treatment, as it's been doing with other Broadway hits lately.

Up next week: Doubt. God bless the NYU Ticket Office! (Yeah, one redeeming aspect of the 9-5 gig.)

So apparently my inability to go up to strangers and say "Hi" extends beyond cute girls.

I had two tix to see Sufjan on the second night of his five-night residency at the Bowery Ballroom, so I invited Thom to come along and, as Sufjan might say, come on and feel the Illinoise! (No, seriously, that's what he would say).

( Read the rest of the story... )

I made a big deal last week when I picked up Sufjan Steven's critically-acclaimed new release, Illinois, and now that I've owned it for a week, I've been able to listen to it a couple times and form some initial opinions about this weird album (which is within an even-weirder scheme Sufjan has devised to supposedly record an album for all 50 states).

Yeah, it's a weird album. And it's a long album--22 tracks, spanning over 70 minutes. It has a few songs with titles so ridiculously long that the songs themselves are over before their full titles can scroll across my iPod's screen; songs--or, more appropriately, interludes--like "The Black Hawk War, Or, How To Demolish An Entire Civilization And Still Feel Good About Yourself In The Morning, Or, We Apologize For The Inconvenience But You're Gonna Have To Leave Now, Or, 'I Have Fought The Big Knives And Will Continue To Fight..." (all of which is track 2...just over 2 minutes long), and "A Conjunction Of Drones Simulating The Way In Which Sufjan Stevens Has An Existential Crisis In The Great Godfrey Maze" (track 14, a mere 18 seconds in length). It's full of odd and quirky instrumentation (complete with cooing choir member background vocals) that has become Sufjan's trademark sound.

Because of all of that, it's a bit of a challenging (and even off-putting) record, but upon repeated listens it seems to grow more and more rewarding. To be honest, I've only been able to listen to it all the way through on one or two occasions--but the more I listen to it, the more I like it. The lyrics are poetic and gripping; the music full of atmosphere and emotion that perfectly set the scenes for the number of Illinois-related stories told throughout--whether it's the menacing and mournful tones on the eerie "John Wayne Gacy, Jr.", or the claustrophobic-yet-lonely sense of the city that you get from hearing "Chicago" or "The Seer's Tower."

Speaking of "Chicago," it's the second song in a wonderful trio of songs--my favorite part of the album thus far: first, the charming "Decatur, Or, Round of Applause for Your Stepmother" (which contains the goofy-yet-oddly-uplifting line: "Stephen A. Douglas was a great debater / But Abraham Lincoln was the Great Emancipator," the last part of which is sung in a carefree falsetto).

Then, into "Chicago," which could be the unofficial anthem of the intrepid twenty-something, with its reflective and somber lyric: "I was in love with the place / In my mind, in my mind / I made a lot of mistakes / In my mind, in my mind."

And from there, into the innocuously-titled "Casimir Pulaski Day," which wallops a punch with its tragic story of loss, mourning, and frustration with God. He keeps referring back to "the glory that the Lord has made," and though redemption is clear in the song's closing line, it's unclear as to whether the narrator is comforted or deeply pained to know that the Lord "takes and He takes and He takes." Sufjan's Christian faith is evident throughout the album, but perhaps it's most evident at that moment, as his narrator openly and honestly struggles with his faith in the Lord in the face of a loved one's death.

I've written quite a bit about an album that I'm still discovering myself. That in itself could be proof of this album's depth. Give the free downloads from Amazon a whirl. And if you're in the SoCal area, you can see Sufjan perform live this week (7/15 in San Diego, 7/16 at the El Rey in LA).

...

Oh yeah, and in non-Sufjan-related musical thoughts...I'm also really really really enjoying The New Pornographers' "Use It" (free download here!), from their upcoming album Twin Cinema.

Go see Murderball. It is absolutely incredible.

I watched it last night in a fairly unpacked theater in Chelsea, and I can't wait to see it again. It is such a great documentary--it has a powerful, uplifting storyline; some great storytelling, cinematography, and editing; great action sequences; and characters that are interesting, provocative, and ultimately endearing.

I don't want to get into any of the details, lest I spoil the film for you. Let me just say this: when I watched Super Size Me last summer, I was inspired to eat better and also to take on "the man" (in the movie's case, Ronald McDonald, but from my vantage point, "the man" was something much more insidious than multinational fast food chains). After watching Murderball last night, I was inspired to live, no matter where the circumstances of my life may lead me.

It sounds corny when I say it like that, but trust me; that's the clear and powerful lesson behind this film.

Well, that, and the fact that quadriplegics can lead very active sex lives. Just in case you were wondering.

OK, no more spoilers...just go see it for yourself if you get a chance!

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
--Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

A brilliant poet and a fascinating man, that Thomas. Last night I attended a one-man play about the brilliant poet with my friend Colette. I'd nearly forgotten how wonderful a wordsmith the man was; so too, I'd nearly forgotten about his tragically premature demise--brought on by fame and alcohol ("They loved me in America...loved me to death" was a common refrain throughout).

The show was excellent, by the way, thanks to the superb acting by Geraint Wyn Davies.

Sunday found Sarah, Crystal, and myself in the front row at Dodger Stages to see the highly-acclaimed Off-Broadway show, Altar Boyz. The show's premise is simple: it's the "last stop" on the national tour of a (mock) Christian boy band (yup, it had me thinking of Plus One as well). For 90 minutes, the "Boyz"--Matthew, Mark, Luke, Juan, and Abraham (he's actually Jewish)--give a high-energy performance, full of catchy pop melodies, flashy and impressive dance moves, and tongue-in-cheek interaction with the would-be screaming/adoring fans in the audience.

In short, it was quite hysterical and highly entertaining. The show is a brilliant and unrelenting parody of both boy bands and the evangelical Christian subculture (even though many of the references throughout are taken from Catholicism), but it never demeans Christianity. In fact, despite its cheekiness and great satirical feel, the show is rather faith-affirming. Many of the jokes would most likely be lost on people who don't know at least a fair amount about the Chrstian faith. And, just as I thought when I saw Saved, I think it's good for Christians to see something like this, as it gives us a chance to laugh at ourselves.

I really can't tell you how incredibly entertaining this show is. Even if one were to miss a number of the faith-based jokes, the dancing and singing is more than enough to impress--these five gents could easily star in a real boy band...they're that talented. And they play up some boy band stereotypes quite well: you've got Matthew as the Timberlake-ian leader of the band; Mark as the, uh, effeminate one, and the band's choreographer; Luke as the cool/tough guy from the 'hood who speaks like a hip-hopsta (even though he's from Ohio); Juan, the token Latino member ("They tell me that minorities are really in right now!" he tells his bandmates), and Abraham, the band's lyricist (which is even funnier considering he's the lone Jew in the crew).

It was all so much fun to take in--great acting, great dancing, and catchy, well-written, boy band-ish songs such as "(God Put the) Rhythm in Me", "Jesus Called Me on My Cell Phone," "La Vida Eternal," and "Girl, You Make Me Wanna Wait" in which the band actually pulled Crystal up on stage to serenade/embarrass (much to mine and Sarah's enjoyment). And though the plot is, as TimeOut put it, "communion wafer-thin," it's more than forgivable.

So if you're in New York, and you get a chance to see this one, I'd highly recommend it. Otherwise, you can pick up the Original Cast Recording from Amazon.

I know, I know...it's been a whopping four days since I last updated. I've been on a vacation of sorts, and have spent much of the last week playing tour guide.

At any rate, I've now seen Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith twice, and as you could probably guess (based on historical evidence)...I ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT.

Now, I will fully admit that it has a number of cringe-worthy moments. I'd even go as far as to say that it's not an incredibly well-done movie. I'll probably devote time in a later post to discuss the positives and negatives about the film, but in the meantime, I have to say that I quite enjoyed seeing it.

Why? Well, when it comes right down to it, I guess you can say that it's that storyline--a storyline that so closely mirrors the meta-story of the fall and redemption of humanity--that keeps bringing me back. It's the emotional connection I've developed with the characters--and even the Star Wars universe in general--that seems so familiar, drawing me in time and again.

And, as I was telling Thom today before we saw it, I'm just a sucker for a cool light saber duel, which this movie provided in spades.

So, while I can understand and even agree with much of the criticism leveled at Lucas' handling of the final chapter in his saga, I still say in all honesty that Revenge of the Sith both entertained me and moved me. And, in the end, that's all this average American moviegoer really wants from his movie-going experiences.

More to come. It's time to meet up with Crystal and Sarah, who spent the day doing "retail therapy."

Last night (Friday night) I joined my friend Donald, his wife Nanette, and some of their other friends for Movie Night at their apartment a few blocks away in Woodside.

The movie? The Taking of Pelham One Two Three; a classic caper flick from 1974 that takes place in the Greatest City in the World (yes, NYC). Four moustached men hijack the 6 Train--which is still fairly recognizeable as such 30 years later--and hold it ransom until the City of New York can cough up a million clams. I don't believe I'd ever seen the film before, and that saddens me to no end.

Besides the great, suspenseful plot that keeps you on the edge of your seat throughout, there are many other reasons to check this film out: the amazing 'staches (the hijackers' thick black 'staches make them look really really sketchy and dangerous); the dialogue that's chock-full of classic Nooyawhk-twahk, making me wish I'd lived in NYC in the 70's, back when "53rd Street" was still pronounced, "fit'y-toid street;" and finally, some great performances by younger incarnations of Walter Matthau, Hector Elizondo, Earl Hindman (you know...Wilson from Home Improvement, which I didn't catch until after consulting imdb.com), and Jerry Stiller (whose performance in this film is brilliant...and clearly the inspiration for one of the bit characters in The Simpsons--the balding guy with the black 'stache who said, "No, I'm quite low-brow!" in one episode).

Watching Pehlam One Two Three inspired me to come up with a sizable list of New York movies, and start working my way through them. Any suggestions?

I went into Thursday night's performance of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels expecting great things. You can imagine that would be the case when most, if not all, of the critics' reviews have been positive; not to mention the fact that it's based on a hilarious movie (though it's been years since I've seen it), and stars a well-known actor who's received a number of awards for his work on a popular TV sitcom. Oh, and not to mention that my friend Diane--who joined me for the show--had already seen it once before and was gladly going back to see it a second time. I was counting on it being a good--if not great--show.

I wasn't disappointed in the least. Though I didn't find it quite as brilliantly funny as The Producers, or as endearing as last year's comedic giant Avenue Q, I thought the show was excellent. At the most basic of levels, it's quite similar to The Producers in that it's a story about a mismatched pair of guys who spend the bulk of the show conning (or at least attempting to con) their way to riches.

Of course, when you have a duo like John Lithgow and Norbert Leo Butz in the starring roles, the laughs tend to come easily and frequently. Lithgow has an impeccable sense of comedic timing, and Butz...well, with a name like that, you'd better have a good sense of humor. Butz singlehandedly earned much of the laughter throughout the show thanks to his slapstick and physical humor. Diane pointed out--and I would have to agree--that he was very reminiscent of Jack Black in terms of his mannerisms and, well, obnoxiousness.

The supporting cast was good, but this was clearly Lithgow's and Butz's time to shine. The last scene, for example, opened with just the two of them relaxing on the beach--they sang the penultimate song, "Dirty Rotten Number," and then sat in their beach chairs onstage as the audience gave their approval through a sustained and exuberant applause that lasted nearly a minute.

And on top of all that, they handed out free copies of the original cast recording as we entered the theater. So, for a show about a couple of swindlers, I think we really got our money's worth.

I'm on a real Broadway show kick right now (hence the two back-to-back posts), because the NYU ticket office is offering discounted tickets to so many great shows--besides The Producers, they're selling tickets for Avenue Q (which I've already seen and loved), Fiddler on the Roof, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, and Wicked. Having now seen Avenue Q and The Producers, I definitely want to check out the remaining three.

So today at 12:30, the Wicked tickets went on sale. They had tickets available for three nights in the next month or so, at $37 a piece...considering that it's next-to-impossible to get cheap tickets to see Wicked, this was an opportunity that was too good to pass up. But alas, it was not meant to be for DT. I stood on line (yes, I'm saying it like a New Yorker) for nearly an hour, as the line was already around the corner of the building by the time I got there at 12:15, but they sold the very last ticket to a girl two places ahead of me on line. Drat.

So, as a consolation, I picked up a pair of tickets to Fiddler, which I've been meaning to see for a while. Especially now that Harvey Fierstein is starring as Tevye--I mean, who can forget his, uh, fabulous rendition of "Matchmaker" in Mrs. Doubtfire? So this I gotta see!

OK, not really, but I thoroughly enjoyed seeing "The Producers" on Broadway last night.

I got a ticket to the show through NYU's Ticket Office, which always offers great deals for Broadway shows (except, of course, during the week that Jonathan and Corey were here). I lucked out, in the sense that I was able to score the second-to-last ticket that was made available (naturally, it was in the corner seat in the last row of the balcony), but unfortunately it was a single seat...so I went by myself.

Still, I was glad I got to see the show, and though I enjoyed Richard Kind's performance as Max Bialystock, I think I really would've enjoyed seeing Jason Alexander or Nathan Lane in the role.

And it completely goes without saying, but Mel Brooks is a funny, funny man. Who else could get away with a show-within-a-show called "Springtime for Hitler?"

Yes, it's been over a month since I first made mention of this list--I tell you no lie, though, it wasn't until this week that I made the FINAL list. It was hard, especially since I would keep picking up new albums that I really enjoyed.

This, however, is it: DT's Favorite Albums of 2004. You'll notice that I don't say that these are the best albums of the year, only my personal top 10; I certainly didn't listen to enough music this year to determine which were the "best" albums of the year (you might like to read up on which albums were in the running), and even then, I don't think it's possible to say which albums are the best, as it's all a matter of opinion. I recognize that some of the albums on the list aren't the most artistic, groundbreaking, or brilliant releases of 2004, but for whatever reason, they were albums that I enjoyed and appreciated more than others.

So enough with the introductions...( it's time to see me do my best ‘rock journalist’ impression )