Bestest band names, episode #1

Christian Science Minotaur

Silliest and Best

Friends, rejoice: Muse’s “leaked” song from their forthcoming album, The Resistance, has finally been found. “United States of Eurasia” was released in the form of six USB sticks, which were distributed around the world for obsessive fans to track down. The finished article, now available on YouTube, is every bit as grandiose as we’ve come to expect from England’s foremost apocalyptic glam-rock trio. It also playfully invokes the band’s influences through some pretty explicit musical quotations. There’s the harmonious crescendo from Queen’s “We Are the Champions,” the imperious brass theme from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (“The Slave Children’s Crusade”) and, finally, a neat rendition of Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat Major.” And those are just the ones I identified on my first listen.

Full disclosure: I was an obsessive Muse fan myself, back in the early years of this millennium (when I was 16/17, you know). But, as my tastes matured, I came to regard the band as a horrifying embarrassment—they became a symptom of a teenage identity I wanted badly to leave behind: angsty, histrionic, effete…hell, take any word that’s used to malign society’s most idiotic age-group; that’s Muse to a T.*

And yet, as more time has passed, I’ve developed a sort of sneaking appreciation of the band. As they’ve become more overtly kitschy and silly, so has it become easier to like them; just check out the kung-fu, sci-fi, spaghetti western (not just western; spaghetti western) video for “Knights of Cydonia.” That’s some truly sublime nonsense, particularly the slapping-to-passionate-lovemaking sequence, which I think is just about the neatest little send-up of cinematic sexual politics you’ll find in any music video. (Not to mention, oh God, the unicorn money-shot!)

It’s true that they’re best in small doses, but that’s true of all kinds of good things: recreational drugs, pornography, sugar, giving blood…you name it. So I’m actually kind of looking forward to The Resistance, particularly as it apparently boasts some overblown orchestral arrangements. I won’t pay for it, mind. Now that would be embarrassing.

*Samples from Muse’s AllMusic “moods” list: dramatic, paranoid, brooding, volatile, angst-ridden, aggressive.

Word of the Day

Acomoclitism (from Greek κομη = hair, negation prefix α-, and κλιτικος = having a preference, from κλινειν = to lean, κλιτυς = a slope) is the technical term for a preference for hairless genitals. The related adjective describing anyone with this preference is acomoclitic.

Thanks Wikipedia!

Set radar to "hairy"

"Think I can handle that animal in the sack?" asks Britney Spears in her new video, "Radar," as a horse is sprayed with water. (But Britney, it isn't in a sack!) It's not all sexy visual puns though: there's a cunning subversion of pop-video conventions at play!

Britney is the partner of a fabulously rich man, who is handsome and clean shaven and has short hair (more of which later). One day, as she is walking through the ol' mansion, she catches sight of another man, who is handsome and stubbly and has long hair. Allow me to draw this dichotomy more clearly:

• Man #1 = handsome, clean shaven, short hair, wears a suit.
  
• Man #2 = handsome, stubbly, long hair, wears a vest.

Naturally, Britney immediately falls for Man #2. She eyes him up coquettishly and sings suggestive lyrics (viz. "animal in the sack"). It's a perfectly neat setting up of pop-video convention number 36: rich person is attracted to poor person and ultimately spurns material wealth for love.

However! Things are not as they seem! Britney takes to the balcony of her home in order to spy on her prospective paramour with binoculars. What is he doing? Is he a gardner, hunkily pruning roses? Is he cleaning the pool? No! He's playing fucking polo! He's rich too!

And with that, the last remaining flakes of Judeo-Christian ethics are brushed from the shoulder of Western Civilisation's pristine dinner jacket, lest they deter the laydeez. Britney hooks up with Man #2, who is now besuited himself, and heads into the sunset. Curiously, she leaves her diamond necklace, a gift from Man #1, behind her; is there an anti-materialist message after all? Did the director, seeing that the fairytale wasn't as magical as had been intended, insert this shot to preserve the ideal of a love that transcends economics and social distinctions? No, the necklace clearly just fell off while Britney was canoodling. If you buy the single, you'll be able to watch bonus footage of her going back to collect it.

Pride and Prejudice and Paradigms in Modern Publishing

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is set for a sequel: Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters.

Apparently the literary-classic-plus-monsters model is getting to be a Big Thing, with Queen Victoria: Demon Hunter and I am Scrooge: A Zombie Story for Christmas set for release this autumn. However, Quirk Books, the publishers of P&P&Z, are keen to emphasise that they won't just be cashing in with more zombified mash-ups; they're rather more ambitious than that.

"I think Pride and Prejudice and Zombies fans are counting on us to deliver something original, and I don't think they will be disappointed," says editorial director Jason Rekulak, as though changing the type of monster were a bona fide act of literary innovation. It's a pretty sad state of affairs when not putting zombies in a book is a path-breaking publishing strategy.

Sounds like a pickle

Dear Advice Andy,

I recently got my girlfriend pregnant. Well I think it was me who did it – I asked her for proof and her eyes went all big and she went home immediately (do you think she might be lying?). Anyway, if it is mine (the zygote or whatever) what should I do? I’m not the father type – my dad’s a total loser and I’d probably just get to be the same right? It’s psychological so what’s the point fighting it?

The problem is that my girlfriend doesn’t want to have an abortion because her mum is Catholic and doesn’t like them. I mean she totally hates them. I tried to tell her (my girlfriend) that Catholics are just people who didn’t get the memo about science happening, but she’s scared of her mum, who I think does weird rituals and stuff – she might even be a witch (can Catholics be witches?).

I checked on the internet and you can get really good abortions for pretty cheap without having to go through all the doctors and stuff, so I figured she could stop her mum from finding out. However, she’s still kind of reluctant about it. How can I change her mind? I guess that’s my question.

Thanks for the help,
P.

***

Dear P.,

Sounds like a pickle, but don’t worry, I’ll get you through! The first thing you need to do is get on down to the nearest chemist’s and pick up a bottle of ether. Don’t let them swindle you on those new pills and ointments – ether is what you want. After that, you’ll need a good claw hammer (if you don’t have one already, buy one – they have 1000 uses!), some plastic sheeting and a box of fishing lures. (Marijuana cigarettes may come in handy too, but these are optional, and they're not available in stores.)

To begin with, you’ll have to lull your girlfriend into a false sense of security (if she managed to get pregnant by accident, she should already be pretty close). Try buying her some flowers (I forgot to mention the flowers!) – red roses are best, not because women like them particularly but because they know that men think they do, so when a man buys a woman red roses she figures he’s being really thoughtful. Also, try to talk to her really gently about feelings and things, and maybe stroke her neck or arm.

Once she’s good and secure (or so she thinks!), grab that bottle of ether and just whack her in the head with it as hard as you can. Try to get it to break – that way you’ll get ether all over her, which’ll probably help knock her out somewhat. Drive her out to the woods and just do what comes naturally. Trust your instincts – men have been dealing with unwanted pregnancies since the dawn of time, so you can’t go far wrong.

Good luck!
Advice Andy

The rats begin to chew the sheets

Thoughts on Saffron Burrows

There ought to be a rule, I think, that if your child's name sounds like a location from a poorly translated JRPG then...well, you should change it.

INT. SAFFRON BURROWS - NIGHT

The place here is dark and there are some about. WHISPER and GLANS come in. They are seen fast and three guard come out with fight.

GUARD #1

Halt! Here is not it!

GUARD #2

Don't make it happen!

Whisper whispers something to Glans. They take GREEN HAMMER OF STONES and swing at with force the Guard #1.

GLANS

Break!

WHISPER

He makes it so fast here!

Guard #1 gets to smash, the others making leap in surprised. A fight begins to instance.

Captain Finn, continued

Captain Finn the Wine-tasting Robot stood victorious over the body of his defeated foe, icy winds whipping about him like the feverish tails of a thousand cat’o’nines, each and all hell-bent on his destruction. He did not flinch; he was a robot. The eyes of Charles Manson’s Digitised Brain Downloaded into the Body of a Cloned Dinosaur stared up at him from the ice block in which they and the rest of Charles Manson’s Digitised Brain Downloaded into the Body of a Cloned Dinosaur’s body had been trapped. “Malice,” said Captain Finn, correctly identifying the emotion that they, the eyes, transmitted, “with perhaps an undertone of sadness.”

Their battle had lasted for almost a fortnight. Initially, there had been many hundreds of combatants: savage natives, wild dogs, a retired pro-wrestler seeking to promote his comeback, and several curious teenagers from the nearby town. All had fallen asunder, staining the tundra red with the redness of their red blood’s redness. After sixteen hours of the shedding of that blood, only Captain Finn and Charles Manson’s Digitised Brain Downloaded into the Body of a Cloned Dinosaur, his arch nemesis, had remained. Then the real fighting had begun.

Captain Finn had offered to shake hands, seeing as how it was a special occasion, but Charles Manson’s Digitised Brain Downloaded into the Body of a Cloned Dinosaur had exploited this gesture of goodwill by handcuffing him to a tractor. Fortunately, the tractor was made from metal, the same substance from which Captain Finn’s robot body was fashioned, and he had been able to free himself by breaking it with force. Thereafter, the two had fought tooth and claw, although Captain Finn, who possessed neither teeth nor claws, had been at a distinct disadvantage. Had it not been for his massively superior strength and resilience, he might not have prevailed, and this story would be about how Charles Manson’s Digitised Brain Downloaded into the Body of a Cloned Dinosaur was standing over the frozen body of his arch-nemesis, Captain Finn the Wine-tasting Robot. Suffice it to say, though, that Captain Finn did win, and conclusively, albeit after two weeks of non-stop fighting.

The reason the battle had lasted so long was that time in the Scottish Isles* is not linear, but concertina-shaped.

“You were a valiant opponent,” intoned Captain Finn, “thank you for your time.” He turned to go. “Wait!” cried out Charles Manson’s Digitised Brain Downloaded into the Body of a Cloned Dinosaur, for whom talking was now difficult. Captain Finn turned back. “I just wanted to tell you,” continued Charlie, each word a bucket of agony poured into a sea of excruciating pain, “that you deserve everything you get. Good and bad.” “Thank you,” replied Captain Finn, as he set off home, leaving his frozen foe to die, once and for all, in the lonesome wastes of a blasted arctic frozen world.

*Obviously, that's where the battle was happening.

25 Brook Street Review

I was recently in London to review a new oratorio about Handel. You can read it here, although I don't know why you'd want to. Probably you're a fool.

Thoughts on that whole Tyondai Braxton album listening party

"Strange, steroidal kitsch" was my suggested hook; my friend Alex responded with "classical Girl Talk."

The last time I heard any TB solo material was 2005--noisy, loopy electronic stuff, with a distinct emphasis on texture. I want to say "industrial," but I'm sure that Industrial afficionados will disagree. Central Market, Braxton's first post-Battles solo release, preserves the loops, and it's hardly quiet, but otherwise evinces a major aesthetic shift. It's more dancy (although not in a strictly danceable way--go on, prove me wrong), and the sound palette has expanded to include all manner of acoustic instruments: pianos, trombones, flutes, clarinets....

Considering that he used to be a one-man (plus copious effect pedals) band, Braxton's desire to exploit the resources available to an established recording artist with a built-in fan base is understandable. However, the results of his explorations are anything but: four-to-the-floor bone-shakers, built on Reichian keyboard loops and symphonic string swells, punctuated by fuzzy synth glissandi and pitch-shifted chipmunk vocals al la Battles' Mirrored; gloopy electro-ambient interludes; brass fanfares and flute solos; militaristic snare drum rolls (on almost every track).

Okay, so maybe that sounds like a blast (how would I know what a blast sounds like?), but the reality is thoroughly perplexing. Central Market is a stomping monolith of random episodes, confusing and (at a "listening party," at least--lights dimmed, voices hushed) kinda arduous. Maybe it'll come together after a few listens; it's certainly colourful, and there's an underlying sense of musical mischief that might just redeem the kitschiness, once properly apprehended. For now, however, I'm totally in the dark. What do Girl Talk sound like, anyway?