Currently I am looking at a picture of my Grandmother Betty and me that was taken on Mother's Day 2009. As it is for a lot of people who lose loved ones, it just doesn't seem real that she's gone, even though it's been a year ago as of August 27th. In the picture she is sporting a smile and leaning into me, with my arm around her. It just seems so unnatural for someone who has forever been a part of your life to suddenly be gone. It is even harder to believe when a person isn't old when they pass on. Such is the case with my Aunt Darlene, someone I loved very much who has been gone almost 4 years now. I remember playing pool with her, just sitting and having conversation, get-togethers at her house. I liked her smile and her laugh, and her strong personality.
I think that it is important to let yourself grieve and grieve hard. I remember after the death of someone at the Bible college that I attended, someone getting up in chapel and trying to explain to a grieving congregation that we need not grieve as others grieve because we have faith in God. While perhaps he was well-meaning, I wanted to go over and slap him in the face. Jesus himself is said to have wept at the death of his friend Lazarus. And during a sermon he declared: "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (Matthew 5:4)" That sounds a lot different than "Buck up, people, why are you crying?" It is important to grieve what we have lost; the friendships, the relationships, the talking on the phone til 2am, the hugs. It is only by walking through the pain and grief that we can come out to the other side, where, though some pain will still remain it won't dominate us as freshly as when we first lost our loved one.
My second point is that while we grieve and afterwards, we need to trust. When a baby is born it is often said that they have been sent by God, and that all the days of their lives have been ordained by God. During a lifetime, a person of faith may seek a strong relationship with the divine. In the Bible it is even said that we are ambassadors of God on earth. But what then about death? I believe that grief is real, but it is so not for the one who dies, but for those of us who are left behind. Once we have grieved and grieved hard, I believe that we can trust that, just as the person (my Grandma Betty, my Aunt Darlene, etc) was sent into this world by God and had a relationship with the divine throughout their lives, so too can we trust that they pass from this world back into the hands of God. They are being taken care of and are being embraced in an immense peace.
I miss my Grandma and my Aunt very much and I wish I could have just one more conversation with both of them. I continue to grieve for them, but at the same time I trust that they are being well taken care of in the hands of God.
Read a different point of view review from the None But My Own Blog HERE
Thrash metal has always been widely misconstrued by the masses. However, in a perverse position of paradox, 100-years from now, it is doubtful that other non-metal genres of music will be able to fill stadiums across the world. The impact that metal has made in the last few decades on a worldwide basis is incommunicable; you simply have to witness it to believe it. As long as there are disaffected youth, there will be metal. As virtuous, pure and pleasurable other genres of music may be, far too many of them fail to dig deep or attempt to put the world and its tribulations on a stage. Artists on Top-40 radio are ephemeral and while they take you away fleetingly you’re still secluded when the moment passes. Thrash metal doesn’t just make you face up to those issues head on, but in concert, it’s a surly exorcism. Over 10,000 fans observed and took part in one at Chicago’s UIC Pavilion recently on the “American Carnage” concert tour. Three of the most cogent thrash bands to ever walk the Earth (Slayer, Megadeth and Testament) decimated the Chicago faithful with a 4-hour antiestablishment show.
Testament stepped up to the plate first. Despite several line-up changes over the years they threw themselves into the middle of a jolting tsunami of ferocity. With the return of guitarist Alex Skolnick a few years back, the band is now touring with what is largely their classic line-up (only drummer Paul Bostaph isn’t original but was Slayer’s drummer for nearly a decade) and with the release of The Formation of Damnation they are back to set the record straight substantiating their existence. For nearly 40-minutes the band delivered a set high on technique opening with the one-two punch of “More Than Meets the Eye” and “Dog Faced Gods”. “3 Days in Darkness” found some exceptional four finger magic by Greg Christian on bass. Like lines on a highway, he helps steer the band through treacherous turns keeping them on the road. “Into the Past” featured some frantic fret interlock by Alex Skolnick and Eric Peterson who played off one another with burly grace. “Practice What You Preach” was hypnotic and hellish. A song that has not been a regular staple of shows was brought out and it was welcomed. Back in 1989, underground Chicago metal station 103.1 WVVX and its listeners voted Practice What You Preach metal album of the year. To this day it stands as an acme of their catalog and its absence from recent set-list is head scratching. More bewildering is the inclusion of a pair of songs from The Gathering, an album that didn’t feature Alex Skolnick. They’re both indisputable tunes but with a abbreviated set and so much landmark material missing from their early records and only two from The Formation of Damnation, one would hope they’d focus on the classics and the future rather than the in-between periods. The slovenly old school epics “The New Order” and “Into the Pit” were downright menacing initiating the fanatical mosh pit that would pick up steam with every act. Chuck Billy yelped bottomless bellows like whale ready to swallow the world whole. Testament made their presence known (they were filming footage for a forthcoming DVD) and set the stage for two of the definitive albums of the thrash genre
Megadeth’s Rust in Peace and Slayer’s Seasons in the Abyss are celebrating their 20th Anniversaries. Both albums find the metal legends providing biting social commentary surrounding wars, doom, political chaos, social decay, military corruption and overall political doom around the world. I still have issues with both releases, yet despite this they are surprisingly more relevant than ever in 2010. The foreshadowing and spewing forth of truth from both acts were ahead of their time. When they were released in 1990, the first Gulf War hadn’t begun and now two decades later, we’ve seen two specific wars in the region. Slayer and Megadeth (along with many of their thrash contemporaries) give a tip-of-the-hat to the godfathers of folk and rock from the 60’s where the concert stage was their pulpit from which they tried to expose the truth. Slayer and Megadeth have never been afraid of shaking the foundations and attempting to forge innovative ideas, fresh opinions and anticipate that their audience will listen absorbedly and scrutinize what they had to say.
What differentiates this version Megadeth from others is the triumphant return of original bassist, Dave Ellefson. For me, there is no Megadeth without both Mustaine and Ellefson as pieces of the puzzle. They accomplish so much more when they tackle the world together. Ellefson’s presence, along with a clear minded Megadeth elicited some of the evening’s most ardent reactions. With the lights dimmed and each member taking to the stage one-by-one and by the time Ellefson and Mustaine took their respective places the place was trembling before Mustaine fiercely commenced it all with a fuming opening riff of “Holy Wars... The Punishment Due “, the first of nine tracks from the seminal Rust in Peace. “Hangar 18” included a scorching mid-section courtesy of Mustaine’s jaw-dropping finger work. I’ve followed Megadeth long enough to know when it’s one of those nights and with every note performed; they wrapped the crowd around them in ways I never deemed possible. Rust in Peace may not be amongst my preferred Megadeth albums, but it’s an integral one which still influences people today. Surprisingly, the band appears to be more in command of their destiny than ever before. Even tracks like “Tornado of Souls” and “Five Magics” engaged the larger crowd and the album’s finale of “Rust in Peace” featured the band in full throttle attack mode.
The remainder of their set, which could have gone off course, didn’t and found the band displaying more than sheer virtuosity but the very best Megadeth could give. “Head Crusher” from their latest Endgame featured a sledgehammer riff while the more melodic Megadeth was represented by the superb “Trust” from Cryptic Writings. “Trust” may have not contained the in-your-face fierceness of their most celebrated work, but it’s among Mustaine’s greatest accomplishments as a songwriter. There’s an air of revelation when he delivers the line “God help me please, on my knees”. It may not be their heaviest moment, but make no mistake; it’s one of their best. The finale of “Symphony of Destruction” and “Peace Sells” found all four members channeling the infuriation of social decay through their instruments as the crowd lapped it up like it was water in the desert. On “Peace Sells” with its incandescent opening bass riff, Mustaine barely even needed to step towards the microphone as the crowd sang the song for him. Arguably one of the metal world’s definitive moments, it solidified not just Megadeth’s past but the present as well. All four members performed their instruments meticulously and whether it’s Ellefson’s return to the band, healed relationships or Mustaine’s confessional new biography, they seemed destined for great things ahead if this performance was any indicator.
When it comes to fandom in any genre of music, Slayer may have the most extreme and devoted in the world. Their level of devotion outnumbers any act I’ve ever seen and when the band took to the stage at the UIC Pavilion every one could see why. Despite never making a record that is even remotely commercial they have always been true to themselves and as a result, trends come and go but Slayer is forever. They work and thrive outside the monster of the music industry. Commentary on death, doom and destruction is their forte as they believe in unmasking the lies of society. As a curtain dropped and revealed a stack of 40-Marshall amps on-stage, the band tore through “World Painted Blood”, the title cut from their 2009 album. When Slayer steps out on the stage, get ready for an earth-shattering performance. The four members of Slayer play off the one another and through the power of their instruments evoke mayhem. Guitarist Kerry King plays his guitar possessed as if he is not of this Earth. It’s as if he’s merely here visiting like a ghost or prophet as his playing is downright primordial. Araya is an unlikely vocalist, but his menacing tone induces horror. Jeff Hanneman lends to heavy handed solos and riffs perfectly complimenting his band mates. Then there is drummer Dave Lombardo who plays the drums as if he’s scalping them. Never missing a beat he continually exceeds expectations and places Slayer’s music on another level. He’s as integral to the Slayer sound as Cliff Burton was to those early Metallica recordings.
On Seasons in the Abyss, Slayer made a huge leap forward creating a commentary on Reagan’s America and in the process, ironically, foreshadowed the doom much of us would witness for the last two decades. By no means is it the definitive Slayer record they took a huge leap forward embracing socioeconomically events. With Abyss being performed in its entirety, it limited the depth of their catalog during the show, but it didn’t stop the band from delivering some gigantic highlights. “Expendable Youth” had heaving guitars, complimented by Araya’s vocals and bass while the underpinning of Lombardo’s drums sounded like the apocalypse with bombs descending upon us from the sky. “Dead Skin Mask” features a Kerry King riff so heady it could raise the dead back to life. “Skeletons of Society” featured some devilish intertwined guitars. “Born of Fire” was especially severe and raging while the title track elicited the feeling of rising from the deepest and darkest depth of hell for a fight. Watching Slayer on the concert stage it becomes apparent that there is no other way on this Earth to communicate and express this wrath without the music. As meticulous and raging as the complete album was, it was the remainder of the show where Slayer left their bawdy mark. The primal composition of “South of Heaven” evoked hands and horns to the air while the blinding ire of the rhythm section and the cold fury of the guitars swept away the hostility and vehemence emanating from the crowd. “Raining Blood” may be the band’s epoch and was the evening’s prevalent moment. You couldn’t tell where the wrath of the pit began or ended. All one could see was a sea of people churning in circles and against one another like a battle call for the disillusioned had been dialed up. “Angel of Death” concluded the show with knife-like lyrics sung with hard-hitting craze by Araya, hell bent drumming by Lombardo and annihilating licks by King and Hanneman that pummel you like a heavy weight.
Slayer records and concerts are filled with unbridled and boiling candor. Don’t expect to be walked through the treacherous terrains of the world in a fraudulent fashion. The calamity and dejection they sing about isn’t depressing, but a forceful glimpse at the fraudulent world we live in. Slayer’s tenacity to never relent on their mission, paired with the world nearly collapsing upon itself only solidifies their art and how they execute it. If you seek outspoken brutal reality about criminals, social decay, political chaos and corruption, then the “American Carnage” tour is for you. Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter
John Mellencamp ‘No Better Than This’ Album Review **** (4-Stars) By Anthony Kuzminski {Buy the album HERE}
Read my review of his recent box set HERE and Mellencamp's full discography guide HERE.
When sightseeing around the world, we lug cameras to seize the moment in time. Last summer when John Mellencamp was on tour, he went one step further and brought along a portable 1955 Ampex recording machine and a single microphone. The end result, his second straight masterwork on the domestic and peripheral trials and tribulations of the America in the 21st Century paired with a mid-20th Century production. If touring with Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan wasn’t enough for him, he set-up shop in Sun Studio in Memphis, Tennessee then in Room 414 at the Gunter Hotel in San Antonio, Texas and finally The First African Baptist Church in Savannah, Georgia. What differentiates respectable artists from distinguished ones is the capacity to incorporate the aura of the past more so than merely replicating it. One listen to John Mellencamp’s 20th studio record, No Better Than This and without a doubt in my mind, you hear someone channeling the spirits of the past. With producer T-Bone Burnett along for the ride, they crafted the haunting and rustic Life, Death, Love and Freedom which proved to be an epic confessional few of Mellencamp’s contemporaries could even match. The aptitude to convey feelings and lessons hand-in-hand is a powerful one. At times it can be misguided but with a heavy heart John Mellencamp may be at his creative crest over the last few years and No Better Than This is a living example. While Mellencamp may be leaning his sound towards the past, he’s capturing the ache of the world in lyrics that are full of cold fury and pleas for redemption. Nine of the album’s thirteen songs were cut in Sun Studio in Memphis and amidst the spare instrumentation and mono sound you can feel the ambiance of those great Elvis, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis records from the 1950’s. The restrained instrumentation helps entrench the lyrical emotions. It’s a rich record, steeped in the folk and blues of our countries past with themes that pinch you in the present.
While Mellencamp stretches back to the depression era folk aesthetic of the 1930’s he also is able to emulate the 1950’s Sun Studios joie de vivre and encapsulate it all with a current day outlook. But instead of living in the past, he merely evokes the aural aesthetic and throws himself into the songs. Most artists have been so built up by managers, record labels, promoters and their fans they view any type of personal narrative as a sign of weakness. It’s one thing to provide commentary on world events that don’t affect you and another to dig from within, show your aches and bruises and find a way to weave the songs together to construct a revered proclamation. Trust me, this is an impracticable task. I’ve seen artists try and fail miserably. An artist’s career is much like their life. The older they get, the wiser they become. The autumn of their life has the potential to be opulent and verdant just like the changing and beaming colors of leaves on a tree. One isn’t better than another but instead of chasing eternal summer, Mellencamp has grasped what has been handed to him and like a shot in the dark he embraces not just the past but the haunted ghosts of social decay that infiltrate and infect our society in 2010. Instead of trying to write a love song that can heal the world, he’s poetically tells distressing tales with a veiled and unflinching sense of optimism. An ongoing theme of the record is as we ponder our life choices it’s more critical to learn from them than dwell on them; they’re in the past and the only way we can fix them is by moving onward. The songs on No Better Than This are striking compelling multigenerational narratives with universal themes.
The faceless criminals of a corrupt society make their mark on “The West End”, in a dead-end street echo (“Look what progress did/ Someone lined their pockets / I don’t know who that is”). The narrator on “A Graceful Fall” is retreating from life (“Yeah I’m sick of life”). The despondent brush stroke drumming and pining guitars echo a troubling finishing nail in the coffin of their existence. “Thinking About You” questions “what could have been”? This isn’t the mere reminiscence of the Scarecrow era but a yearning tale of lost love. The narrator let someone slip through his hands and now he just wants to let her know that she left an impression on his thoughts all these years later. The details in the song’s lyrics, “I bet they’ve torn down that playground down/ Where I first met you” are terribly lucid placing the listener on that playground as the wind moves the empty swings. “Coming Down the Road” gives a tip-of-the-hate to the late Johnny Cash with storming force hoisted by a burning vocal. He empathizes with those in agony while urging them to see what they have in front of them. Like a psychologist he’s acknowledging the grief of the present and steering them toward the light in the hopes they can find the answer they need. “No One Cares About Me” with its hop-skip-jump percussion and wheezy electric guitar tells a solemn fable of seclusion. After a life of regrets he can see the error of his ways but is still lined with the potential for redemption (“There surely must be some angels around the bend/And they’re trying to get to me/I’ll catch up with them pretty soon”). “Love At First Sight” imagines all of the peaks and valleys of a marriage with a shot of humor (“And let’s supposed you found another man/ And hit me in the head with a frying pan”). “Don’t Forget About Me” is one of the greatest tales of longing ever committed to tape. The brief tale of longing accentuated by its Santo and Johnny guitar is frail but make no mistake, it’s a tale of hushed torture. “Each Day of Sorrow” finds a man without religion or love and is walking through life aimlessly backed by Andy York’s strutting guitar. “Easter Eve” with its plaintive acoustic strumming tells a vivid 6-minute tale that wraps up family, violence and rescue. “Clumsy Ol’ World” finds two people who shouldn’t be together but the strength of love seems to surmount all their inconsistencies and the track ends with a giddy laugh from Mellencamp making you think twice about what you just heard. It’s as if he is in on a joke which holds some riddles to life we’ve yet to uncover.
Despite the solemn and spare arrangements, No Better Than This does house moments of internal triumph and this is where the other songs find their balance. On the album’s title cut that Mellencamp pulls both worlds together in a blissful release of mind and body. Musically “No Better Than This” hustles along like a 1959 Cadillac Convertible in a moment of lucidity where the answers to life can be found on cheap thrills and a clear conscience. Desperate times call for desperate measures and by evoking the past, Mellencamp tries to steer the listener towards emancipation through the power of nostalgia to times where people were infinitely happier with infinitely less. He speaks to the listener like an astute elder who can relate to their strains. The album opens with the wonderfully evocative “Save Some Time To Dream”. Its brushstroke percussion and Andy York’s dour guitars aren’t likely to light up pop stations, but like “Longest Days” (the opening cut from Life, Death, Love and Freedom) it’s without question, one of Mellencamp’s furthermost triumphs as a songwriter. The song is the purest tale of love encouraging one to embrace life’s unadorned pleasures even when the mountains to climb seem insufferable. In one particular passage, he encourages you to embrace the tough times; “Save some time for sorrow/ Cause it will surely come your way/Prepare yourself for failure/It will give you strength someday”. Love, hope, desolation, broken hearts, desperation, consolation and inspiration spew forth in these thirteen songs but beneath them, one line permeates above them all; “A dream might save us all”.
Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter
“God is a creative process that is forever in search of avenues of expression. We are those avenues. To spend our prayer time asking God for something ... is to deny the full magnificent scope of God in our lives. Doesn’t it make more sense to trust that this Power which created the entire universe knows what is best?” — Mary-Alice & Richard Jafolla
I like this quote and I understand what the authors are saying, but can't we do both? I love how the quote starts off in saying that we are God's avenues of expression within Her creative process. I used to think that prayer was something that I (a person apart from God) did in order to get in contact with God (a Person apart from me.) But if I am nothing less than an expression of God, prayer is something far more personal for me. When I pray, I am not directing my prayers just outside of myself, but deeply inside of myself where God also forever resides.
I also agree with the latter part of the quote, that we can trust that the Power that created the universe knows what is best. These ways are often a mystery to us, but we can trust that God, who is forever Good, has the best at heart for our well-being.
The part of the quote I disagree with is the part that says that asking God for things is to deny "the full magnificent scope of God in our lives." Here I would instead agree with the Bible verse that says, "Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. (Matthew 7:7-8)" I believe that God is in this way an intimate Power who delights in listening to our prayers and is ready to answer when we ask for things. It's an old cliche that Her answer may come differently than we expect, but that could be the case. Also, prayer puts us consciously in touch with God and raises us from the hum-drum that our daily lives can often become.
Finally, again, God has our best interest at heart and when we pray this Power that exists both within and around us is moved.
Dave Mustaine is a legend in the metal world for such a wide and assorted amount of reasons that I don't have the space here to list them all. However, fortunately for you, you can now delve into what makes the man tick in his official biography Mustaine: A Heavy Metal Memoir.
I unfortunately have not yet had the pleasure to read this book, but my good friend Tom, who used to run Midwest Metal, has given the book it's best review to date. Tom doesn't glorify anything and when you read one of his reviews, you get the good and bad. He's brutally honest and yet, you can feel the weight of emotion behind his words. His review is the best I've seen on the Mustaine book. Do yourself and go HERE now to read it.
Rush Chicago, IL-Charter One Pavillion August 23, 2010
I’ve been on a Rush kick ever since seeing their documentary. (For my full detailed review go HERE or HERE) But last night, Rush endeared me more to them if that is even possible.
Back in July, 8,000 Chicago Rush fans waited anxiously for the band to take the stage amidst the rain when the announcement came; the show would be postponed to a new date later in the summer. Cancellations and delays are dreadful for anything, but concerts it’s a large pain in the you know what. People travel, rent hotel rooms, pay for parking, and sometimes get tickets from other sources than Ticketmaster which makes the new date sometimes impossible to attend. Cancellations seem to be reaching new highs as of late and when the gig finally takes place, there’s rarely a mention of the previous cancellation even though it has surely cost the fan some money in one form or another. However, last night, amidst a perfect summer night in Chicago off the lakefront Rush delivered and then some. Acknowledging the technical/weather snafu’s that plagued the last show, they made their way through a spirited 11-song first set that opened with the sprawling “The Spirit of Radio”, a wonderfully wistful “Time Stands Still”, a new song from their 2011 record “BU2B”, an airy “Presto”, a clamorous “Faithless” (not played before this tour) and a sinuous “Subdivisions”.
After they joked about their age and needing a break before continuing, a local radio DJ took to the stage. He announced the band and their management have made special one-of-a-kind baseball hats for the crowd as a “thank you” for coming back for the rescheduled show. On the back of it, stitched in was “The Rain Date Chicago-2010”, making this an immediate collectible.
Did they have to do this? No. Is it nice? You betcha! In a day and age where it feels as if ever band is gouging you for the last cent out of your pocket, this was refreshing. Actions speak louder than words. It’s akin to being seated later than normal at a restaurant and being given a free appetizer or desert. In short, it’s called Customer Service! Rock n’ roll and respect for the fans hasn’t gone hand-in-hand for quite some time, but Rush proved a cynic like me wrong for once. Can you honestly believe an act who says “thank you” for coming while charging north of 4-figures? Make no mistake Rush tickets are by no means cheap ($49.50-$150), but they delivered every way imaginable by playing one of their classic albums in its entirety (Moving Pictures) and even playing a pair of songs from their upcoming 2011 record. Then even when the last note was wrung out from their three respective instruments, there was this…
from Unity's Daily Word publication for Monday, August 23, 2010
I live this day one precious moment at a time.
I choose to be at ease with the present moment whatever form it happens to take. This is a moment I do not want to miss.
If I let my mind linger in the past or stray into the future, I might miss the fullness of what life holds for me right now. I am unable to change the past, so I gently let it be and focus on living. I realize I have plans to make for the future--but I do not live there. I live right here in the present moment.
Right now, I have the opportunity to say "yes!" to life, to be alive and aware of the wondrous energy of God coursing through my body.
I live this day one precious moment at a time and enjoy the life I've been given. I am grateful for the fullness of my life and for each golden opportunity to live it well.
The last couple of days I've been thinking about, no, seeing how fading and passing material things really are. Among the "things" in my life that have been breaking down: my Blackberry, my earbuds, my clock radio, my can opener; there's probably more examples but they escape me at the moment. But it again brings to light the harsh fact.
Every Thing Breaks Down.
I think the reason that so many things have been breaking down on me lately is so that I will learn to place value on the immaterial things in life rather than the material ones. There are a couple of wonderful Bible passages in Matthew chapter 6 that deal with this. The first starts at verse 19: "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." How do we store up treasures in heaven? I think that we set our sights on heavenly, or higher things, the things of God. These things of God include Love, Life, Faith, Trust. When you think about it, when we concentrate on these heavenly things, our relationships and friendships flourish. What do our friends desire from us primarily? Is the answer gifts and physical presents? Of course not. It is love and presence (nice...took me a good half-second to come up with that one.)
The second verse in Matthew 6 that deals with this is verse 24: "No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth." This doesn't mean that we are all meant to sell every possession we have and live out in a desert somewhere, but we need to remember what the important things in life are. And how do we serve God? We love more, others as well as ourselves. We live out the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). When you think about it, what would the world look like if only each one of us was brought up to practise these traits? Would we have oppressive regimes in Iran and North Korea? Would we have famine in Africa? Would we have deep divisions between family and friends? Would there be members of society who feel abandoned and completely alone?
So, as some of the material things in my life fade away and rust, let us set our sights on higher things. Let us start by loving.
All too often the music world is full of stories involving absurdly gifted musicians who die far too young (Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain top mention a few) and we sit around and chalk it up to destiny. “They weren’t meant for this world” is the lame excuse we tell ourselves because deep down we don’t want to admit to what we missed out on in terms of revelation these artists could have provided had they lived. We often don’t ponder of what could have been because it hurts too much. Yet there’s always the cynic who jumps in and says that the “new” music these people may have created wouldn’t have held up to their best work. If you ever find yourself in this position, I’d suggest you jump in and start an argument with throwing David Bowie to the forefront. David Bowie throughout much of the early 1970’s hopped on an astonishing rocket ship to superstardom. Every few years he was outdoing himself from the “Space Oddity” beginnings to more defining bodies of work with Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars, Aladdin Sane and Station To Station. Despite the influence and sales of the early 1970’s work, it is David Bowie’s late 70’s work that may be among the most notable and crucial of his career and possibly the most influential music of the last four decades. The recording of Low, ”Heroes” and Lodger influenced virtually every piece of music that emanated from the electronic, new wave and the alternative movements. The story behind these years is similarly mesmerizing. For the first time, one book covers this period of Bowie history in its entirety, Bowie in Berlin: A New Career in a New Town. The pictures that precede the book (most in color) are revelatory and almost worth buying the book for these alone including quite an amusing picture of Bowie and Iggy Pop in a Copenhagen train station. You can see the transformation of Bowie in these few short years and they’re an added bonus to an already marvelous text. There are hundreds of David Bowie books to choose from but what makes Thomas Jermone Seabrook’s one of the most captivating is that cover-to-cover it encompasses less than 5-years and still manages to wring out every conceivable detail in all of its 274-pages. People write entire biographies in that many pages and Seabrook here dug in and went deep with what would ultimately a period that encompassed fewer than 1,500-days in Bowie’s life.
Beginning in 1975 during the lead up to the film The Man Who Fell To Earth film and the Station To Station album and tour Seabrook minutely sets the stage in operatic manner covering the mindset and physical deterioration of David Bowie during this time. The themes of isolation are prominent and Bowie, who spent most of the year in a cocaine fueled crisis (most of which he doesn’t remember) hit his lowest point. Despite a critically acclaimed film and what many deemed his best record to date, Bowie needed a change of scenery and abandoned Los Angeles for a residence in Switzerland which he barely utilized instead setting up shop in France and Germany. Seeking anonymity, he found it alongside his old friend Iggy Pop. The two men sought solace in not just foreign territories but in each other. A little know fact is that this period didn’t just culminate in the aforementioned “Berlin Trilogy” consisting of Low, ”Heroes” and Lodger but two stellar Iggy Pop records as well, both produced by David Bowie, The Idiot and Lust For Life. The Idiot is very much a David Bowie creation where he didn’t just produce but co-wrote and performed on much of the record. In fact, it was the first of the five records to be eventually recorded (between June and August 1976). The book probes Pop’s work with the same clarity, detail and care as Bowie’s albums. Lust For Life is given the same treatment forcing you to reconsider the album as a whole and not just “The Passenger” and “Success”, best known from their appearances in commercials and film. Between these two records, Bowie would revisit some of these very same songs in the 1980’s when he recorded them and the stories of their evolution is detailed here including the inspiration for one of Bowie’s biggest hits, “China Girl”. There is a breakdown of songs and albums one-by-one describing not just the events surrounding them but the music as well. As a lover of music, Seabrook’s words send you back to the record instantly forcing one to appreciate nuances taken for granted and in some cases, shedding new light on the art overall. Seabrook helps lift the legacy of this time to new planes as he carefully dissects studio sessions, the composition, recording and overall journey of escape these two men sought in order to not just find their inner muse, but to reclaim themselves as well. During this time Bowie separated from two separate managers (which proved costly), fully separated from his wife Angela, weaned himself off excessive drugs and in the process was reborn.
The evolution with which art is created is as intriguing and alluring as the final product. Seabrook does this material justice and forces and allows to reader a fly-on-the-wall perspective as Bowie along with producer Tony Visconti and Brian Eno, who helped create the overall aesthetic and sonic architecture of the records. While Bowie and Eno collaborated in unique ways to create the unique and wholly original sounds, Visconti steered the car and helped make the paintings a reality alongside guitarist Carlos Alomar, drummer Dennis Davis and bassist George Murray. David Bowie may be the star but each of the aforementioned men are integral not just to the story but to the ambiance of all of the records. The introduction of the synthesizer was also a source of ridicule from some in the press, but as time has shown, Bowie, Eno and Visconti were ahead of their time. All five records in superb detail from the initial seed of the idea, to the studio experimentation and finally the lyrics (always recorded last). There are even minor details which set the stage for albums later in Bowie’s career such as the Sales brothers on bass and drums for Pop’s Lust For Life. They ultimately joined forces with Bowie more than a decade later for the maligned Tin Machine. I’ve always admired the “Berlin” period from afar but could never consider myself an apostle of them. They were always too arty for my tastes but the way Seabrook lays out their formation you can’t help but feel they are among the greatest pop art creations ever by the end of the book. These three records aren’t necessarily Bowie’s most translucent or poppy or even radio friendly, however, they single handedly saved Bowie’s life. Listening back to the “Berlin Trilogy” and one is astounded at how cohesive, hypnotic and fresh these records are three decades onward from the fade-in to “Speed of Life” on Low through the airy yet defined melodic guitar of Robert Fripp on “’Heroes’” to the slummy “Red Money” (a close relative of Iggy Pop’s) “Sister Midnight”. Sometimes the most lasting works of art take time to digest within you and even though other records may have sold more at the time, certain albums stand the test of time securing their legacy. None of the “Berlin Trilogy” albums sold millions upon their releases but their influence can be heard every hour on the radio somewhere. Bands like U2, the Cure, Nine Inch Nails, Coldplay, Joy Division or Depeche Mode may never have become the acts they became without these albums. U2 retreated to Hansa Studios in 1990 in the hopes of capturing the same magic (with Brian Eno in tow) and the end result was Achtung Baby and Zooropa the zenith of their careers. Even if you can’t appreciate Bowie, you have to admire his ability to influence an album like Achtung Baby.
Bowie in Berlin: A New Career in a New Town is better than any documentary on the subject or Behind the Music could ever hope to deliver. Seabrook balances the factual and historical aspects of the story while peeling away at the albums song-by-song sending the reader (and listener) running back to their turntables to rediscover (0r discover) these records all over again with new bifocals allowing you to revel in their brilliance. At his lowest point, David Bowie didn’t die or merely fade away, but he reinvented himself artistically and pulled himself from the trenches of self-oblivion. Bowie will possibly never sit down and document this integral period to his career (and to music in general) and we should be thankful Seabrook took the time to put this brief but integral era into perspective. Without question, Bowie in Berlin: A New Career in a New Townis essential reading for not just Bowie fanatics, but for any music fan or any genre.
Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter
‘Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stage’ Film/DVD Review By Anthony Kuzminski {Buy the movie here}
The Canadian progressive rock band Rush has always been their own entity. Even when they have experimented with their sound, it was always on their own terms rather than bowing to the marketplace. As a result, they find themselves in a rare spot as an indispensable band today. Other acts played the game and as a result, hold no credibility and have issues filling seats, but not Rush. With each passing year they are receiving more awareness and accolades than they managed in their first three decades together. Rush has always been an anomaly to me. While I bow at their musicianship and their stamina, I’ve never really grasped them. I know the classic rock radio staples like “Closer to the Heart” and “Tom Sawyer” but has never been in a position where I felt the need for their music in my life; until now. Much like last year’s Anvil: The Story of Anvil, Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stage is a revelation into the history of one of rock n’ roll’s greatest and most durable bands. The progressive rock trio has forever been a staple for the arena circuit despite very few hit singles. Walking into the film completely devoid of their history, it tapped into my heart. Directed and produced with refined care by Sam Dunn and Scot McFayden, they play to the audience telling Rush’s story in a chronological manner that is thoroughly absorbing. Dunn and McFayden have previously collaborated on Metal: A Headbangers' Journey and Iron Maiden: Flight 666. Both films have revealing interviews with its subjects and as they slowly peel off layers you find yourself becoming more engrossed to the point of turning you into a fan. You don’t have to be a fan of Rush to enjoy Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stage but it’s unlikely you’ll watch it and not fall under their spell. Upon hearing the opening riff to “Limelight” days later, it sounded magnificent as did the celebratory guitar chords that begin “The Sound of Radio”. Years after hearing these songs dozens if not hundreds of times, for the first time, my heart skipped a beat and I could feel dual strength of the musicianship and lyrical themes take over. Even something as complex and operatic as “Xanadu” sounds downright dazzling. This is a testament to Dunn and McFayden’s talent to wield the viewer into the world they inhabit. Songs that just a few days earlier wouldn’t have even evoked a reaction from me now seem luminal. In fewer than two-hours they swiftly execute the Rush story with not just care but most importantly with heart as well.
The film shifts between current day interviews and a multitude of archive video and pictures going as far back as the 1960’s. Especially surreal is home video of a teenage Alex Lifeson explaining to his parents why he doesn’t deem school as being integral to his life. All three band members are interviewed as they revisit each album in the band’s catalog and former managers, record company executives (Cliff Burnstein who went on to manage Def Leppard and Metallica) and producers chime in adding their two cents fleshing the story out. However, as strident all these individuals were to making the Rush story a reality none carried the weight as heavily as the talking heads who were influenced by Rush. This is where Dunn and McFayden cemented not just the film, but Rush’s legacy for all eternity. People will seek out this film long after we are all dead and gone and it will be to see Trent Reznor, Gene Simmons (who is quite humble here), Billy Corgan, Matt Stone (South Park), John Roberts (CNN), Sebastian Bach, Vinne Paul (Pantera), Kirk Hammet (Metallica), Jack Black and Jason McGerr (Death Cab for Cutie) as they enlighten us on the significance of Rush. Ranging from pop-metal to hard rock to alternative Rush appears to have influenced several musicians and other pop culture luminaries who took the ingredients and molded it into their own. Going back and listening to the churning operatic brilliance of a song like “Xanadu” and you hear shades of the Smashing Pumpkins, Metallica and Nine Inch Nails all housed in it. That in itself is a feat. How could anyone influence something as diverse as the three aforementioned acts?
One can only listen to a performer talk about themselves so much before it becomes tedious. This is why the outside inspiration of others is essential to any documentary covering one’s career. The one interview that stood out above all others was Billy Corgan’s. Corgan speaks eloquently and more significantly, emotionally. He pours a piece of his soul out articulating his admiration for this band that didn’t just show him the way but consoled him as a teenager when he felt no one else understood him. There’s a particularly heartrending moment when he tells the camera of when he was a teen and he sat down with a guitar in front of his mother and played her a Rush song. It wasn’t to show off to her, it was to communicate something to her. The words “disgruntled” and “teen” go hand-in-hand and yet there was something about this Rush song that spoke to Corgan and his way of sharing this struggle with his mother was through the power of a Rush song. Corgan’s quotes are almost too good to be true and they are explicitly why I went back and started listening to Rush (and the Pumpkins). When capturing the history of a musician in a large scope documentary like this is to open the shades, let the sun beam in and make the music sound like it did to you when you were 16-years old. We all remember that time, Where our pain could be healed by a album or song and when we heard it, the hair on the back of our neck stood up and when it was over, we once again felt whole with the world; this is what Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stagedid for me. It took a classic rock band I’ve never loved and made the hair on the back of my neck raise when I hear “Spirit of Radio” come on the radio.
The cornerstone of the Rush story is the hiatus the band took from 1997-2002. Drummer Neil Peart had back-to-back tragedies you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. Peart escaped to his motorcycle and ultimately disappeared for a few years. This story will solidify why you either love Rush or why you will love Rush. Other bands that are more insecure would begin to break apart at the seams to continue to money train. Did Rush manipulate Peart into touring? No. If he had gone to rehab would they have rushed him out to promote a record? No. They stood by their friend and waited patiently until he was ready to move forward. In the minds of Lee and Lifeson, Rush was over. Time has told a different story but this sequence of the film will endear Rush to you for all eternity.
If the film wasn’t enough, the DVD has an entire bonus disc that is over 90-minutes encompassing performances and further interviews not included in the film including discussion of the albums Hemisphere, Presto and Roll the Bones. There is a nice piece on the fans and one of my favorites was seeing Geddy Lee talking about falling in love with baseball and the Chicago Cubs. If you’re a sports fan, seeing his memorabilia alone will make you green with envy. There’s a powerful performance of “Between Sun and Moon” from their first show after a six year break in 2002 and a extended conversation with the band over dinner at a hunting lodge that proves to provide comic relief more so than a major eye-opener, but it’s still a blast to watch (in more ways than one). However, the most poignant bonus item is the performances of “Best I Can” and “Working Man” from 1974 featuring original drummer John Rutsey. While not perfect quality it’s an essential part of their career and it’s a tribute to Rutsey to have it included here.
Ultimately, the film is a knock-out because it respects not just the music but Lee, Lifeson and Peart as well. These three friends forged a bond, siphoned it with music and nearly four decades later their light is burning brighter than ever. When you have a band like Rush who has managed to stay alive and vital for close to four decades, a discussion of their work is warranted if for no other reason than they are survivors. This is more than a mere music documentary; it is one of the very best films to be released in 2010. The film is executed with lovingly care and is a celebration of these three men’s lives, talents and above all else, their music. It shouldn’t have been a surprise but it is. It reminds you of how utterly joyous and triumphant the sound of “The Spirit of Radio” was and still is to this very day. Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stage turns the music of Rush from mere entertainment into a creed.
Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter
Their recent broadcast from Madison Square Garden was directed and overseen by film director Terry Gilliam. The final product was a superb experience for the home viewer with wide shots capturing the band and the crowd in their element. The size of the arena didn’t seem to matter here as the real fireworks were on the concert stage. On “No Cars Go”, the band congealed their individual talents into one glorified and magnified sound that was downright contagious. It’s quite a sight to see drums, violins, according, guitars and fists flying in the air all amidst some incredibly enlivening, reaffirming and soul baring rock. “The Suburbs” was melancholy as was “Crown of Love” with a highly effective segue between the two as Butler serenaded the Garden crowd from behind a piano. Delivered with all of the intensity and agility of the best prime Springsteen/U2 songs at their peak, it was clearly the highlight with an accentuating xylophone tinting the musical narrative. “We Used To Wait” won over the crowd and fueled the exuberant and chanting in “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)”. The band, despite being on a break for a while, sound terribly tight and well rounded for what is one of the first dates of their world tour.
The music may be too orchestral, too sweeping and too emotive for some, but the Arcade Fire haven’t worn out their welcome because one look at them on the concert stage and it’s evident this isn’t an act or a show but real bristling emotions pouring over on the concert stage. The musical template is wide, grand and epic in a way if the E Street Band and U2 had formed some sort of super group on the side when their respective acts were taking a break. The humanity of the band bristled forward as the band screwed up one song only to start it over. A embarrassing mistake? No, just a moment that endeared me more to them. The finale of “Wake Up”, an arena arm-waving-anthem if there ever was one, lived up to its promise uniting the intelligencia and geeks of the indie rock n’ roll movement in one grand and epically sweeping moment. For a band that can fly down down and sweep you away in mere seconds, I’d like to see them push themselves and perform longer shows. The 2007 show I caught at the Chicago Theater had all the elements in place for it to be downright epic yet I couldn’t help but feel they could have taken the crowd to that next level and didn’t. The YouTube broadcast was a superb yet again, with three albums under their belt one can only hope they push closer to the 2-hour mark in the not too distant future.
To date the band has yet to be corrupted by fame, temptation of big money and mediocrity and instead are chasing after the muse and following her wherever she goes. I haven’t given The Suburbs a verdict to date simply because I don’t think it’s a record that can be reviewed properly until months after its release. It’s a sprawling affair full of good notions, clever lyrics and boisterous music that makes you stand up and listen and sometimes that’s enough. It’s easy to hop on a bandwagon and pretend you’ve loved this band since day one. That’s not the point. It doesn’t matter who was first in line, what matters is the here and now. It’s imperative you take the band and their albums seriously. Have you listened to “Intervention” 86-times finding consolation? Or uncovering some tracks years later that sound like long-lost friends? It’s impossible to be whisked away to a simpler time when innocence was still intact, however, as the band chips away at that virtuousness and veers you down the highway of adulthood, you can’t help but feel a tad melancholy, but more importantly, you feel empowered. This is a band who writes songs people see themselves, feel themselves and lose themselves in these songs. Like R.E.M. or U2 in the late 1980’s, the Arcade Fire is taking those steps from cult band to everyone’s band. Their music is filled with metaphorical insight into life’s battles and more so than providing you with the wepons to fight them, the Arcade Fire instill a clear focus allowing you to reconcile your past thus allowing true forward movement. They may be the indie world’s darlings, but there’s good reason for it.
Set List: Ready to Start Neighborhood #2 (Laika) No Cars Go Haïti Empty Room The Suburbs Crown of Love Rococo Intervention We Used to Wait Neighborhood #3 (Power Out) Rebellion (Lies) Month of May Keep the Car Running Encore: Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels) Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains) Wake Up
Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter
Good afternoon. The word "trust" has always been one of those important words in my life. As I was growing up it was right up there with the words "faith," "pray," and "saved."
What did the word "trust" mean to me back then? Growing up I was taught to trust in God, but it was trust in His son Jesus that was most important. It was a trust that Jesus had come down to earth from Heaven in order to show me the way to live, and of utmost importance, to take the punishment for my sins by dying on the cross. However, the words "trust" and "myself" never went together. You see, I believed that all of us have a sinful nature and we shouldn't trust in ourselves. It was through prayer and the Bible that we received instruction from God.
Fast forward to today, and trust has an entirely more personal meaning. I must preface this my saying that my beliefs on the nature of God have changed. Rather than being separated from God, I believe that all of creation lives within God,we are expressions of God, and rather than a sin problem we have an awareness problem.
I deeply believe in God, though I may use other words to address the Almighty, such as Life, Love, Mother, and Spirit. I believe I am connected to this God, and so trusting God ultimately means trusting myself. By trusting myself, I mean that I can trust my whole being, and in doing so I communicate with the divine. These days, God most often speaks to me through simple messages She plants in my mind. In this way, God is my Highest Thought or my Best Thought. But God is also in my body, my emotions, and my sexuality. As I learn to trust all of these things, which God created and inhabits, I am more connected and aware of Her. And my relationship with myself becomes healthier as well. Rather than seeing the body and human nature as originally sinful and untrustworthy, I learn to embrace myself, love myself, and trust myself.
Of course, God is not confined to me personally. That is the beauty of it all. Each person that we meet in our day is a living, moving Breath of God, and as such God may choose to speak to us through them, and to them through us. I think we all have a Higher Consciousness and a Lower Consciousness, and through prayer and steadfast trust in our Highest Thoughts and feelings, we can be raised to that Higher Consciousness. There is a verse in the Bible that refers to praying with ceasing. It is through prayer - both asking and receiving - that we can become more aware of God's will for our lives.
In short, Your mind is a Good Thing; it is a God Thing.
Your emotions are a Good Thing; they are a God Thing.
Your body is a Good Thing; it is a God Thing.
Your spirit, your soul is a Good Thing; it is a God Thing.
Do you know, have you heard the good, no, great news? There is nothing that you could ever do that would make you anything less than lovely and lovable.
There is a great verse in the Bible that says: "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God. (Romans 8:38-9)" This is one of the shining parts of this book, and there are many. Unfortunately, though, some parts of the Bible have been interpreted to mean that in our natural state, we as humankind are sullied or incomplete, even shameful. This leaves us forever reaching, forever grasping for something or someone to make us feel better about ourselves. Our relationships become needy and clingy. We search for our next "hit" of happiness as if it were a drug. We become as Mike Myers and Dana Carvey in Wayne's World: "We're not worthy! We're not worthy!"
What if, instead, you and I came into this world as beautiful, shimmering people of the Light, people of Love. What if, instead of being separate from the Almighty, we are nothing short of expressions of Her (or Him if you prefer) being introduced to this planet. Instead of striving and striving to prove ourselves worthy of God's love, we lay that to rest and instead realize that we already are what we want to be. It's just that we have believed heretofore in lies. We've bought into false messages and beliefs that we have encountered in our daily lives through the media, through religion, through other people. For this we need not beat ourselves up, no more than a little girl who, playing out in the rain, returns inside covered head-to-toe in mud. What does the parent do? She removes the little girls clothes, wipes off her face, arms and legs, and they both burst into a ball of laughter.
So it is with us still-learning but not incomplete creatures. If there are beliefs or false messages that have been caked onto us like mud, we have the opportunity time and time again to wipe off the mud and there, underneath it all, is a shimmering expression of Love in the world. The same thing goes with our "sins," or things we feel we have done wrong. These do not define us. In fact, we have the opportunity to do something that may be completely foreign to us: to be kind and forgiving to ourselves. Maybe you grew up in an atmosphere that, instead of being kind to yourself, taught you to be hard on yourself. Maybe beliefs re-inforced in you that you were bad at the core. But now we are adults and we have the power to give ourselves positive messages and to show ourselves self-love. There is another Bible verse that states "Love your neighbour as yourself." There was a time when I solely concentrated on the first part of that verse. But really, how can we truly love others, those close to us or the stranger, if we first do not love ourselves? If we love ourselves, our relationships with other people need not be clingy or needs-based. Rather, they can be relationships where we are Bringers of the Light and Love to one another.
What are the names that you call yourself? "Too fat, too thin," "Dumb, bookworm," "Ugly," "Unloveable." Whatever they are, today is the day that you can start over.
You are nothing less than a shimmering expression of God, of Light and Love in this world.
"Grace means that in the middle of our struggle the referee blows the whistle and announces the end of the game. We are declared winners and sent to the showers. It's over for all huffing, puffing piety to earn God's favor; it's finished for all sweat-soaked straining to secure self-worth; it's the end of all competitive scrambling to get ahead of others in the game. Grace means that God is on our side and thus we are victors regardless of how well we have played the game. We might as well head for the showers and the champagne celebration."
Book Excerpt "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning
"When we accept ourselves for what we are, we decrease our hunger for power or the acceptance of others because our self-intimacy reinforces our inner sense of security. We are no longer preoccupied with being powerful or popular. We no longer fear criticism because we accept the reality of our human limitations. Once integrated, we are less often plagued with the desire to please others because simply being true to ourselves brings lasting peace. We are grateful for life and we deeply appreciate and love ourselves."
Book Excerpt - "The Fifth Agreement" - don Miguel Ruiz and don Jose Ruiz
"If your beliefs are telling you, 'I'm fat. I'm ugly. I'm old. I'm a loser. I'm not good enough. I'm not strong enough. I'll never make it,' then don't believe yourself, because it's not true. These messages are distorted. They're nothing but lies. Once you can see the lies, you don't have to believe them. Use the power of doubt to challenge every message that you deliver to yourself. 'Is it really true that I'm ugly? Is it really true that I'm not good enough?' Is this message real, or is it virtual? Of course, it's virtual. None of these messages come from truth, from life; they come from distortions in our knowledge. The truth is, there are no ugly people. There is no good enough or strong enough. There's no universal book of law where any of these judgments are true. These judgments are just agreements that humans make.
Can you see the consequences of believing yourself? Believing yourself is one of the worst things you can do because you've been telling yourself lies your whole life, and if you believe all those lies, that's why your dream isn't a pleasant dream. If you believe what you tell yourself, you may use all those symbols that you learned to hurt yourself. Your personal dream may even be pure hell because believing in lies is how you create your own hell. If you're suffering, it's not because anybody is making you suffer; it's because you obey the tyrant that's ruling your head. When the tyrant obeys you, when there's no longer a judge or a victim in your mind, you won't be suffering any longer."
It's been a while since I have done one of these and I have a backlog of stories that you should check out:
Bruce Springsteen's long in the works Darkness on the Edge Town documentary debuts at the Toronto Film Festival in September and will appear on HBO in October.
The New York Times takes a look as to why concert ticket sales continue to dwindle.
Jack Johnson is donating all of the profits from his current tour to local charities. Yes, you read that correctly. Read on.
Billboard has a piece on the Exile on Main Street reissue here that sheds some light on the reissue.
Speaking of the Arcade Fire, the Montreal Gazette has a rather stellar review of The Suburbshere.
Soundgarden did their first billed show in a Chicago club Thursday night and based on the reviews, this is shaping up to be a reunion worth seeing.
If you dug Martin Scorsese's Shutter Island, go here for a spoof of sorts where they play out how one of the characters escapes from the island.
Train is gearing up for VH1's Unplugged later this year (why not MTV...oh yeah, they don't show videos anymore and the "M" no longer stands for music.
Weezer has shifted labels and gives Rolling Stone online a preview of what to expect.
The Guardian has a rather intriguing piece by Jonathan Margolis who was once a celebrity biographer and now that the tables have turned, has a different point of view on "unauthorized" books.
Chud.com has a rather fantastic review of Christopher Nolan's Inceptionhere, it's among the sites most read reviews, do yourself a favor and check it out.
Rolling Stone has a solid first day report from Lollapalooza here. She made a triumphant return to the festival she played three-years ago to a much smaller crowd.
She was made the the hyped up event and by all accounts she delivered and even showed up at Semi Precious Weapons opening set earlier in the day.
I wasn't there to witness it all but caught her a few weeks back in Indianapolis where she performed, without question, one of the defining shows of 2010 I'll witness in any formation.
It may be pure coincidence, but as I gazed to the bottom of your review, I couldn't help but notice BlugBurt has not just one, but two of my reviews there. :-) Once again, it may be pure coincidence, but maybe both of us should get a tad more creative next time.
Tori Amos usually leaves many seats down front open and unsold so the day of her show people from the nosebleeds can be upgraded. Which is why this video at 2:25 is simultaneously hysterical and maddening (Tori Amos Does Not Fuck Around)
This took place two years ago in San Diego. Midway through "Code Red", Amos stopped the show and proceeded to tell these two girls, "Get the fuck out of my show! It's a privilege to sit in the front row and I reserve those seats for people who appreciate music, get the fuck out!"
It may seem harsh but the next time you want to talk through a whole show, go to a bar or invite a friend over, put on a concert DVD or let YouTube run in the background. If only more acts would do this.
‘Sex, Drugs and Bon Jovi’ Book Review By Anthony Kuzminski
There are two types of rock biographies; authorized and unauthorized. The latter is always derided because people judge before even opening a page and deem it unworthy because it didn’t come from the artist’s mouth. The author is viewed as someone wanting to cash in on someone else's success. However, I find most official and authorized books to be tedious and messianic. The acts tend to remember what they want to remember in an alternate world often trying to bury down deep and dark secrets they wish were long forgotten. If done correctly, an unauthorized book could be biblical and definitive as the author isn't so much riding to coattails of celebrity as they admire the subject at hand and want to historically document their history for future generations. It’s a matter of how deep their research goes, their attention to detail and how willing they are to express the truth. There’s an assortment of reasons as to why there will never be a definitive Bon Jovi biography. Too much time has passed to get a proper input and the band is so secretive and forward-thinking that a proper look back will most likely never occur. They’ve had several opportunities in the last few years including a full book deal and a documentary deal both of which morphed into the highly tedious When We Were Beautiful film and book. The WWWB book has some great moments featuring some vintage (sadly too few) Mark Weiss shots from the past and the price was right on it (it's worth picking up), but the film shed no new light on the band which is why Richard Bozzett’s Sex, Drugs and Bon Jovi should be a revelation into these early years. The pre-Keep the Faith era of the band is not often discussed which is why the prospects for Bozzett’s book seemed high. Finally, someone is going on-the-record who was there to see everything on a first-hand basis. Now, I don’t think Bozzett sat down and attempted to write a biography of the band, but let’s make something very clear, this is unauthorized, which as mentioned earlier in this paragraph, isn’t a bad thing…if done correctly.
To understand the genesis behind this book, some history should be give. Richie Bozzett made a living for six-years as the road manager for Bon Jovi between 1983 and 1989. He can be seen in the “Wanted Dead or Alive” video and is also seen in the Slippery When Wet-The Videos, both of which were released in 1987. Bozzett was the man who kept the machine rolling on the road, accompanying the band to radio interviews, handling their arrangements and toweling down Jon Bon Jovi after performances. He busted his ass, loved the band and was fired in early 1989. How he was let go is a source of contention and it casts an immeasurable shadow over this entire book that never allows any rays of light to beam down. Throughout the 158-pages in the book, you have an overriding feeling that you’re looking at things never meant to be seen by anyone. As a geek fan boy who fell in love with not just this band, but music in 1987, it is a captivating look at the ascent of one of the world’s largest bands. However, the lack of specifics, omitted details and dozens of side stories that appeal to no one culminates in a crash landing that it can’t recover from.
The best thing about Sex, Drugs and Bon Jovi is the pictures. It has hundreds of personal pictures from their first gig at Madison Square Garden in 1983 to the American Music Awards in 1988. On-stage and off-stage these glimpses into this early stage of their career are the book’s high point. Most of them are quite candid and never meant for publication and give the book a diary-like atmosphere. Most notable as pictures from Doc McGhee’s wedding in 1986 (these are the pictures that should be drawing attention, for their gaudiness) and also a bizarre group shot of the band with Michael Jackson in Japan from October 1987. Also included are personal notebooks, Telex’s (faxes in the 1980’s), catering lists, contracts and even drafts of personal letters written by Jon Bon Jovi. There pictures of the band’s gun toting bus driver from the first tour and even pyrotechnic licenses. While someone like me can appreciate items like these, it gave me an overriding feeling that many of these items were never meant and shouldn’t be made for public consumption. Based on this, the book should be an easy recommendation, but it’s not. Take away the pictures and you’re not left with much. There might be fifty total pages of text and in that limited space, half of it seems to be copy and pasted from Wikipedia. There’s nothing wrong with this if all of the fact were correct, which they’re not. As for the remainder of the text, it’s a dreary read at best. An inordinate amount of time is spent on Doc McGhee’s operations and the possible drug smuggling and busts that occurred. Very little of this is new as McGhee has always been upfront about this in the past and considering the space dedicated to it in the book, it takes on a cynical tone which overcasts everything else. The same goes for any sex stories in the book. There’s nothing here to write about and why it’s in the title is a disservice to the book, Bozzett and the band.
The press release on this book hailed it as a tell-all that no one has heard before and going as far to allude that the band or their management had anything to do with the death of a photographer is blatantly negligent. While it was interesting to learn the amount of money certain members were making and the behind-the-scenes gossip that occurred in business dealings, little of it will be of interest to even the most fervent Bon Jovi fan. The book is more or less six-years in the life of Bozzett. This isn’t a bad thing, but Bozzett can’t deliver particulars or insight into the band, their music or their tours anymore than an outsider could. Case in point, he makes mention of a mere four songs in the book; “Runaway”, “You Give Love A Bad Name”, “Livin’ On A Prayer” and “Wanted Dead Or Alive”. My mother may be the furthest thing from a pop culture connoisseur but she could tell me the titles of more Bon Jovi songs than Bozzett could and he practically lived with the band for six-years! Despite being present for the recording sessions for many of their albums, he can’t seem to tell us anything about the music. How it was recorded? What songs written but not used? Are there unique versions of songs that didn’t make the final cut? Nothing is here to guide the reader back to those records. In many ways, Bozzett does himself a great disservice here because he actually makes the case (hard work or not) against himself that he was undeserving of whatever Doc McGhee promised him back in 1983. Make no mistake, Bozzett busted his ass for this band and I have no second thoughts as to his love for this band back then and now. However, he doesn’t state his case for why he deserved more other than always being there. Trust me; making it in the music industry has more to it than just hard work, touring and good songs. Dozens upon dozens of things have to happen at the right time to strike oil and Bozzett comes across as being in the right spot at the right time.
The question on everyone’s tongue is why Bozzett decided that this moment in time he would write this book with all of these unseen pictures. Bozzett is claiming to raise funds for a group he calls “Unsung Heroes Foundation”. This is highly admirable and virtuous, but the website associated with it looks cheap and you get a feeling of being taken for a ride. The world is filled with people who used to work for rock bands who were unceremoniously fired but the same could be said about American companies who moved their facilities overseas and laid everyone off. It’s sad and in many cases, unwarranted. Bozzett should be admired for transitioning back to real life and being a success. This is the angle he should have taken with the book, but he opted not to. There’s an overriding sense of bitterness within it and once you allow the bitterness to seep in, it contaminates everything around it. I have no doubt that Bozzett busted his butt and deserved more than he got, but ultimately Sex, Drugs and Bon Jovi is a low brow version of events with little digs at his former employers that not even someone who derides Bon Jovi will want to know. Instead of opting to find the beam of light in his time with Bon Jovi, he embraced animosity, let it seep through and it infects the book as a whole. Like a virus with no cure, the sullenness overtakes Bozzett’s journey and sadly by its conclusion, the reader is disheartened as well.
What saddens me is that there is a story to be told here in a different light. For the record, I have had no issue questioning Jon Bon Jovi’s motives from a business perspective, but this book does the impossible; initially deemed to show the band in an inappropriate light, it actually makes you empathize with them. The nail in the coffin for Sex, Drugs and Bon Jovi was how it was marketed. Promising juicy details about drug busts, financial revelations and sex scandals proved to be futile. Bon Jovi fans will show up with extinguishers to put the fire out when in reality, there is nothing more here than those cheap sparklers parents give to their children on the 4th of July. The book may be journalism at its laziest, but the marketing takes it one step lower. It’s a shame because the Unsung Heroes idea is one Bozzett could have rode far, but the stance the marketers took on this book are proving to be inelegant and a turn off for anyone who would have had an open mind and ear to begin with.
Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter
