Let me finish telling you about my vacation. I finished my two week trip in London. I spent over three hours at the Tate Modern. It was wonderful, and a nice change from all of the Renaissance art that I have been seeing before. Still, I preferred the Tate Britain. There is an ambiguous line between the two, seeing that Tate Britain has a lot of modern art. But, whatever. They were both still great. I also discovered the wonderful world of Primark. Primark is a huge store with extremely cute clothes at reasonable (aka cheap) prices. This was more accessible to me than TopShop. Even though all I really wanted was to throw down all of my money on a 200 pound dress, I had to be realistic.

Brianna and I met up with a friend who was in London at the same time we were and we were supposed to go to a show. Our friend was really jazzed on seeing this DJ because this said DJ only played shows a few times a year, solely in Europe. As a joke he opened up a door that entered the club, but was not the main entrance. After he did that this huge six-foot-five neo-Nazi bouncer would not allow him into the club. Just his luck, right? So, the night ended with street drinking and some really great night food. The street bratwurst was pretty good, but always ask for more onions.

I returned (I made my 30 minute transfer in Paris and was super pumped about that) and then I had a week and a half of school and exams.

On the 21^st I headed to Paris to meet my mother who was arriving on the 22^nd. Brianna had a friend of a friend who we were meeting up with for his birthday party. He is a male model. He had a private room at an exclusive club for his party. The scary bouncer was turning everyone away, but by mentioning that we were there for the party we were let right in. That was really exciting. I wish I could spend 1000 euro on my birthday (and that was only the champagne and whiskey). But, again, I have to be realistic.

When my mother arrived we did a lot of tourist things in Paris. We went to the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Musee d’Orsay, Versailles, Notre-Dame, Sainte Chapelle, and Sacré Cœur.

A few notes on some of these places:

1. The Mona Lisa is great, but go during the low season and get there early. I have never been pushed that much by grandmas wanting to get a picture of a painting. There were way too many people there, so that detracted from the experience. Also, taking a photo of a painting is kind of dumb, just buy a postcard – you will never be able to capture the painting properly.
2. Go to Versailles early. The Grand Trianon and Marie Antoinette’s Estate are not accessible after 3 PM. The gardens are incredible; definitely take some time to wander and explore. The palace itself takes at least 2-3 hours to go through. The audio guides are free, and sometimes really funny due to the random facts they give you. You will want to know more about the palace and the history after you are done, because some of the information is vague. Also, try to avoid the tour groups at all costs. You don’t want to be one of those people.
3. Sacré Cœur is worth the view of the entire city. The view is comparable, or better, than that from the Eiffel Tower. It says to be quiet, that photography is not allowed and to wear appropriate clothing. It says nothing against chugging a water bottle and using the bottle to take some holy water.

After Paris we went to Lyon for one night and we went up to the old city and looked at the view. We didn’t really know what to do, seeing that we were tired and not particularly interested in much else besides eating. I had some awesome tripe (intestines) and some great wine. That satisfied me with my Lyon experience.

For the end of our vacation we went to Cannes and laid on the beach for two days. I have a really funny tan line. The sea was so beautiful and it was the perfect ending to my petite tour of France. If you go there, be warned that you will see a lot of 50+ year old breasts.

Now I will continue my waiting game. I have to wake up at 5 AM to take the shuttle to the airport.

See you so soon, Minneapolis.

Au Revoir, Montpellier.

Short note on Strasbourg:

Strasbourg was lovely and if you get a chance to go there, you should. There wasn’t much to do, but the city is very beautiful and very German. I know I’ve trash-talked France a lot, mostly Montpellier, but Strasbourg has a lot of German influence – which makes one question why it is even a part of France. Plus, my favorite sci-fi television drama, The X-Files, was on tv in English, which was awesome.The main cathedral that everyone goes to, I believe it was Notre Dame (they are all over France), was pretty, but churches generally look the same and it isn’t generally worth going into each and every one. I did end up in a church mass on Saturday night before Easter, but I left due to being tired and wanting to watch The X-Files.

Czech it out:

Prague was incredible in its own right. The history, the food, the buildings – all amazing. You can still notice some of the Communist influence, even though it has been years since Russia lost power over them. My favorite things in Prague leads to a two way tie between Kostnice (the church decorated with human bones) and the Mucha Museum. Kostnice was small, but the mass amounts of bones and the intricate designs that the artist made out of them creates interest, not replusion, when you realize that thousands of people are used to make the chandelier. The Mucha Museum holds a collection of works from the Czech artist who  wanted to create a sense of nationalism throughout his people. His paintings were breath-taking. His depiction of seasons, flowers, zodiac signs, et cetera, through women in gentle, beautiful, and allegorical. It is something that everyone should see.

My Berlin Era (2.5 days in):

Today is May Day. In Berlin, that means a lot of anarchists, a lot of drinking, a lot of dancing, and a lot of cops. April 30th is a huge party day. I was out until, I think, 7 am? Like a true Berliner, I went dancing at a club all night. The club we ended up at, after waiting in line for 30-40 minutes at the first, was called Rosi’s. When we arrived they were playing Devo’s “Gut Feeling,” then it was Iggy Pop “Lust for Life,” and then Blondie “Atomic.” I thought I was in for an incredible night, but those songs were probably the best of the night. They must have switched DJs or something, because there weren’t really that many hits after those three. The cross-fade system was pretty bad, with some awkward transistions and pauses, but it was fine. I mean, I stayed there until 6ish. Outside they were playing Russian electronic music. It was ridiculous and something that I probably would never actually listen to. At least it wasn’t French or German Rap. That might be the worst.

Anyways, I’ll update more when I get to London.

Auf Wiedersehen!

See ya.

Let me tell you all about my weekend in Brussels.

From what I had heard previously Brussels was supposed to be boring, because there really isn’t much to see. This is half true because there is the Grand Place, Manneken Pis, and Atomium and that is about it. But, the people are lovely and it is easy to get around because everyone speaks English, because the French don’t want to learn Flemish and the Dutch don’t want to learn French. But, if you make it to Brussels, and you should make it there sometime in your life, take some time to walk around and find the wonderful, beer-filled underbelly of the city.

First, get a paper cone of fries. You can find these stands everywhere. I was able to make an entire meal out of fries doused in curry ketchup – which was awesome. They are especially good to have right before you go to a bar, because it is a bad idea to drink on an empty stomach.

Then, head off to the Delirium Cafe. As I have said in a previous post, Delirium is my favorite beer. In the US you can go to the Bulldog and get a glass for around $8-9, but in Brussels it was only 3.50 euro. This fact alone strengthens my love for Brussels. This bar was lively, played great music, and had a huge selection of tap beer, e.g. about 2000 choices.

Another bar to not miss is Toone, a marionette bar. From what I gathered, there are marionette puppet shows here frequently, but I did not see one. It is down a semi-hidden alley way near the Grand Place, but it is worth finding. Sit outside and enjoy a Kwak or sit inside and be moderately haunted by all of the puppets looking down on you. Your choice.

Finally, go get a waffle from a street vendor and buy silly trinkets at the flea markets. I got a really ridiculous blown glass deer. I don’t know why. Only a mother could love it.

Brianna and I also spent 45 minutes in a miniatures store and I got a piggy bank the size of my fingernail. I don’t know why.

View TIME magazine’s archive.

This doesn’t bother me in the least.

I am going to Brussels this weekend and  as I’ve said before, it is always good to get out of Montpellier. I would probably be the worst study abroad advocate, ever.  I’m glad I’m here and I get to see a lot of cool places, but I would urge everyone to choose any other program, any other city, besides Montpellier.

I am excited to see Atomium,  Manneken Pis, eat a waffle, drink beer, and whatever else there is to do in Brussels. My train leaves at 6:23 AM, so I will get a good solid five hours of sleep before I get to grudgingly get out of bed, fix myself a makeshift egg dish, and have a cup of coffee so I will function. On the train, that is another story… strange concoctions to make me dream.

I’ve said enough. Brussels will have at least one story to tell.

If you go to France, do the touristy thing and go up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I felt like throwing up on my way up because the elevator made unsettling noises, but once we got up there it was incredible. Do it.

Sainte-Chapelle is possibly more beautiful than the Sistine Chapel. There are the most beautiful stained glass windows. See it.

At Notre Dame they have candles with the Virgin Mary on them. They are under a sign that says something along the lines of “Candles to take, donate what you can.” So, obviously, I threw three euro in the donation box and took a candle home. I am pretty sure I was supposed to light the candle there like everyone else did, but it doesn’t count as stealing if I donated money – right?

Let me tell you about what I ate:

Saturday:

Breakfast – Crepes with ham, onions, tomatoes and cheese with an espresso

Dinner – A thick cut of rump steak with a salad, French fries, and  a green peppercorn dipping sauce with a glass of red wine, a small chocolate cake with a creamy frosting-esque glaze to share

Sunday:

Breakfast – A panini with ham, cheese and tomatoes and a cup of coffee from Starbucks (shut up, it’s been a long time since I’ve had it)

Dinner at Pavé (near Hôtel de Ville) -  A salad with pears and blood sausage, cow cheek with a carrot stew, and a cup of espresso to finish.

Every day I was in Paris:

A LOT OF WINE.

Also, I forgot my camera and we only had a disposable. I will post pictures when they are developed.

I am going back to Paris at the end of May. I’ll say more then.

We started the day off with bad weather in the forecast and getting up at 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday. There is, in my opinion, no reason to wake up on a weekend before noon. Unless there is a medical emergency I will be in bed as long as I damn well please.

After heading out on our bus we arrived at an actual olive garden somewhere outside of Montpellier. The woman talked and talked about how much she loved the olive trees, what varieties of trees were at the olive garden, how to make olive oil, et cetera, et cetera. She talked and talked for approximately two and a half hours.  I don’t even like olives. I had nothing in common with this woman and I couldn’t wait to get outta there.

As soon as we left it started to rain.

Next, we went to a chèvrerie, which is where they make cheese. It was basically a goat farm. This guy and the woman from the olive garden would get along famously. He loved his goats. He did not stop talking about his goats. A girl that worked there loved the goats even more, she was rolling around with them. In all of the fecal matter. It is fine to love animals and love your job, but still, cleanliness is next to godliness.

Finally, the good part comes along.

We went to a winery where after the guided tour of where the wine is kept and how it is made, which was fairly short considering the other two, we drank and became merry. The best way to get some college kids to buy your product is to get them all drunk first.

And, don’t be too offended when almost everyone steals one of your wine glasses.

Basically, the day would have been more fun if it didn’t suck so much.

Forgive me for taking so long to update you on my travels, but I have been extremely busy. I am back in Montpellier, which I have discovered is just as exciting as my hometown of White Bear Lake. So, obviously, this is a hoppin’ town. After spending a week in Italy I have lost desire to go to school, because why go to school when I can travel and see beautiful sights? Yet, I trudge on. Barely learning French and staring blankly at my teachers – back to life as usual.

Enough depressing school talk.

Let’s talk about Italy. I had one week off of school, so my roommate, Brianna, and I traveled to Rome and Florence. Getting there was ludicrous. We stayed up late packing and procrastinating which led to us having a grand total of four hours of sleep between the two of us. We left Montpellier at 10 AM, and several train changes later, we arrived in Milan at 11:30 at night.

Our arrival in Milan was half-baked and we had not made plans of any sort of what to do. The train to Rome had left as soon as we had arrived – so it looked like we were staying in Milan. Ugh. After sitting in the warmest place we could find for some time, which was conveniently located next to the bathroom, we decided we were hungry and left the train station. After wandering around for two hours, passing a group of hopefuls outside of Armani (Did I mention it was fashion week?), our backs breaking from lugging our bags around, and convincing some kids that we were British, we finally found a hotel that wasn’t booked out due to fashion week. (Note: Just because Milan is one of the fashion capitals of the world does not mean that it is an exciting or beautiful city. Truly, if you aren’t going there to shop, you shouldn’t go there at all.) The hotel that we found was a four star hotel, which is usually out of my price range. But, I think the concierge took pity on Brianna and me and gave us a 40 euro discount based on our tired and haggard looks. I have never been more excited to be in a hotel room. Ever.  The 90 euros we spent on the hotel was used efficiently and I think we got our money’s worth. I mean, I got to take a hot shower without worrying about how much I was using, I got to sleep in a bed instead of on the streets of Milan, I got to eat a delicious continental breakfast and pocket a bunch for lunch, I got soap that smelled like candy. I also learned that it is usually a bad idea to show up in a strange city without any plans of what you are going to do.

When we finally made it to Rome we definitely did all of the tourist things, but there are things in Rome that if you go without seeing them you are missing out on something. I was in Rome in 2005 and this time around I saw it with new eyes, probably because I am no longer a surly teenager, but a surly young adult. Of course, we went to St. Peter’s and the Sistine Chapel. Of course, we went to the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain. Of course, we saw the Colosseum and the Roman Forum (we just looked, didn’t actually tour it). But, we also went to the Non-Catholic Cemetery and saw the graves of John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelley. Me, being the nerdy English major that I am, stood in front of Keats’ grave weeping. Brianna, being the cat lover that she is, donated money to the cemetery because it is also a cat sanctuary. I have a soil collection from every place that I have visited, so I scooped up some of the dirt from Keats’ grave as a new addition to my collection.

In Rome, it rained every day. I have had to super glue the soles of my shoes back on twice in the past 2 weeks. Awesome.

Florence was completely different from Rome. When I got back people asked, “Did you like Florence or Rome better?” That question is unanswerable. They are completely different cities, with completely different vibes, and completely different sights. They both have so much to offer, so please don’t ask that question.

The art in Florence was absolutely breathtaking. After seeing Michelangelo’s David, every statue seems insignificant and unimpressive. The Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli is much more consequential in real life, a book or a photograph can never do it justice. The city itself was one of the most beautiful views I have ever witnessed. Brianna and I walked up this huge hill to Michelangelo’s Piazza and could see the entire city and the mountains behind it. It is definitely a sight to see. The color scheme of the city is also something to take note of. The yellows and oranges play perfectly with one another against the foliage and the blue/brown of the river.

There are two things that I would like the US to adopt from Italy.

1. Aperitivo buffets: You go to a bar, order one drink and are given access to an entire grad party-esque buffet. There are a variety of pastas, breads, fruit and vegetables, and other delicious treats. This makes eating out much cheaper and every bar that has an aperitivo has a different selection of foods.
2. Lucky Strike Girls: In the US we have Red Bull Girls, and unless you want to stay awake longer while you get drunk there really isn’t any point of drinking Red Bull. Have a cup of coffee for Christ’s sake. In Italy, there were girls walking around handing out free packs of Lucky Strikes to promote the new line of cigarettes. This would probably be the hardest thing to legalize in the US, but a girl can dream.

This has been an extremely long post.

P.S. Everything is covered in gold foil. So, be warned.

It’s not really ‘shocking,’ as I see it, that stores aren’t open Sunday (certainly there is no 24 hour Cub, which really puts a damper on my 3 AM queso runs) and that everyone speaks French in France. It’s irritating. On top of that I have seen exactly one attractive French boy in three weeks.

Tonight my Saturday consists of solitary debauchery with my roommate as our IKEA apartment falls apart around us. I even skipped class to wait for the FedEx delivery of our train passes, which never arrived even though there was a “guaranteed on time delivery”. Maybe something was lost in translation; ‘guarantee’ merely means ‘probable’ in French?

I have gone out and discovered bars like I like, and along the way, bars that I don’t like. The Shakespeare, although it is an English Pub, has become my go-to place for happy hour (and a half) and good music. They did play both Prince and Dusty Springfield in one night, so this is definitely my kind of place. In addition to being nearby and playing good music, it is also where the attractive boy who was previously mentioned works. So, that is a plus.

The bar that I don’t like is a huge hit with the French. It is Australian themed and called, appropriately, Australia. With their top 40 soundtrack and overpriced tropical cocktails with too much flavored syrup, it is simply not a place I would ever want to be in again. Ever. Again. The admittance system is confusing, the bouncer is an ass, and the decor is identical to Outback Steakhouse. However much I have to complain about, though, I remember my life was just as ridiculous in Minneapolis. It was just easier to drop by a concert or two on the weekend, have a drink with friends and use advanced and grammatically correct English while we converse.

Fin.

The ease of using the signal “anywhere” and taking it with you to other cities might sell you on convenience but is WiMAX really worth the price compared to setting up a local connection? Netflix’s official tech blog offers some despairing analysis.

Certainly no one is a fan of Comcast’s monopoly (and less so on Qwest). MPLS residents can’t survive on outdated copper cables into the next decade. It does seem the fastest fast is not very fast and no one can justify the current cost of internet services. Still, any competitors trying to oust the big C would do well to actually excel on performance.

The most wonderful part about France is, obviously, the food. When a slab of steak is only 2 euro and you can get Boursin for .50 euro I am able to eat like (almost) royalty every day. The only sad part about cooking is the 2 burner stove and having no oven in my apartment. Thanks to my trusty guide book I found a farmer’s market, the Marché Paysan, which is held every Sunday from 9:30-1:30. There were dozens of vendors selling local produce, honey, homemade wines, vinegars and oils, and live trout which were swimming in the bed of a truck – which is pretty legit.

My cheap ass is too poor to go out to eat often and pre-gaming is a must if I plan on going out for drinks. The liquor is infinitely cheaper and I was pleased to find my favorite beer (Delirium Tremens, 8.5%) at the grocery store for 2.20 euro, as it is more expensive and hard to find in the States. The strawberry daiquiri I mentioned before was the perfect level of sweetness with a nice bite at the end. The French must be wired differently than Americans when mixing up drinks; the French know that you need to throw in more than one mint leaf to make a proper Mojito.

Last night, the 19th, my study abroad group went out for drinks with the student assistants so we could start to find the “cool” bars around town. My night ended shortly after arriving at an Australian themed bar that only played American music and there was no happy hour.
This is just the beginning of my travels and exploration. I plan on conquering this town. Au revoir!

Oh! Did I mention that it hasn’t gone below freezing and it is sunny everyday?

Arcade Fire, The Suburbs

The Black Keys, Brothers

Jeremy Messersmith, The Reluctant Graveyard

Kanye West, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

Vampire Weekend, Contra

Hate Win Butler’s Haircut? Think Kanye’s a megalomaniac and VW’s lead singer’s actual name is Preppy Prepperson IV? By all means post your five and let the discussion stretch well into 2011.

And now here is the field today!

Don’t forget Minneapolis has declared another snow emergency starting at 9:00pm tonight, just in time to tow most of the Vikings fans to the impound lot.

Meanwhile in stadium-land, Chris Erskine of the LA Times gives a damning commentary on the symbolism of our doomed dome.

The wreckage at the overripe architectural monstrosity, caused by too much snow, could only have been a message from God, and the message is, ‘Tear down this stadium!’ How much clearer does He need to be?

His constant reference to the implosion happening on a Sunday sabbath beguiles me–Hannukah was last week buddy! You really think we were sitting around eating latkes waiting for the #snowpocalypse to take down an outdated sports venue that smelled of grease oil.

In honesty, the Dome was never an economic boon for Minneapolis, all the associated retail never materialized. Its plain garbage facility looking design has always been a visual and physical barrier in an conundrum of highways spliced through diagonal streets. The residents at Cedar Riverside got the short end of most of this. As splendid as the aerials might be on our skyline, the Dome is brother to our shameful urban renewal history, the last economic development hurrah in a failed City Council experiment to rejuvenate a still asleep downtown.

Dreams deflated into a sea of white.

In Minneapolis, many bicyclists embrace the winter months by continuing to ride. If you are already biking, or considering winter biking, here are some tips for dealing with the snow, cold temperatures, and motorists:

· Travel slowly when snow and ice are present. Riding a bike on a street can be challenging, particularly when ice has formed or snow has become lumpy and compacted by vehicles. Ride in bare patches of pavement or non-compacted snow when possible. Take turns and curves at a slower speed, and allow longer distances for braking. Be sure to plan ahead for extra travel time. And remember that cyclists have the right to ride in a general traffic lane, which (among other instances) may be necessary if bike lanes have not been cleared.

· Ride defensively around motorists. Cyclists are less visible in the winter (with fewer cyclists riding and less daylight), and roads are more narrow (when snow banks creep into the street from curbs). Always be prepared for motorists to make a mistake. Follow traffic laws and be as considerate as possible. Educate yourself and your friends (motorists and bicyclists alike!) on traffic laws and safety.

· Take the off-street trails. Since Minneapolis has so many miles of trails (84 miles and counting!), urbanites from across the country often suffer from “trail envy.” To top it all off, the Park Board and Public Works Department have policies of clearing snow from off-street trails soon after the end of a snowfall (read more about how the Midtown Greenway and Hiawatha Light Rail Trail are plowed). In most cases, this occurs in less than 24 hours. If you have the choice, leave the grime and compacted snow of the streets behind and head for the trails!

· Stay visible. Riding in the winter months means more darkness. Brighten your ride by using headlights, taillights, and reflective clothing and gear. Legally, cyclists are required to ride with a white, front headlight and rear, red reflector at night.

· Use an old bike in good working condition. Salt and sand can wreak havoc on your treasured bicycle, resulting in rust and breakdowns. Use an older but functional bicycle in the winter months. Two elements of a well functioning winter bike include effective brakes and a well greased chain (wet lube is ideal for snowy conditions). Wider tires with good traction are also essential. Add a pair of fenders to your bicycle to keep street muck from landing on your clothing. The Midtown Bike Center has a bike washing facility which can be used to clean off your bike for $3.

· Dress in layers. Just like other winter sports, bicycling can heat up your body rapidly. Apply layers to your torso and legs, and be prepared to strip them away as your body warms. A good rule of thumb is that you should feel chilly when you step outdoors – if you’re cozy before you start riding, you’ll likely be boiling when you stop.

· Cover your extremities. All of us have experienced the extremes of a sweating torso and numb ears or toes. Don’t ignore your head, neck, hands, and feet when you bike. Comfortable stocking caps, scarves, socks, and gloves (which allow dexterity) should be considered. And goggles don’t just look cool; they’re great eye protection from the cold wind and road grit.

· Use 311. If you see a bicycle-related problem which involves plowing, shoveling, signing, or another traffic concern, call 311. The City relies on the public to flag problems. If you live outside of Minneapolis, call 612-673-3000. A Minneapolis bikeway maintenance responsibility list is available for more direct call routing.

· Use transit. When the going gets tough, give yourself a warm break by using the bus or train. All Metro Transit buses and trains are equipped with bicycle racks. Bike commuters are also eligible to sign up for Metro Transit’s Guaranteed Ride Home program, which provides free transit rides or cab fare reimbursement for emergencies (like a snow or ice storm).

· Look for more information. This is hardly the final say on winter bicycling. Any winter cyclist on Minneapolis streets probably has some good ideas, so go ahead and ask around. If you want to read on, visit www.icebike.org.

· Embrace winter. Our identity is shaped by our weather. Snow and cold temperatures add diversity and beauty to Minneapolis. Riding a bicycle in the winter can be exhilarating and practical. It keeps you in good health, it’s good for the environment, it’s cheap, and at times, it’s even the fastest mode of travel.

Metro traffic

And this just in:

@TwinCityScene: Via @Webster — Coworker reported freeway sign says: “I-94…. OVER 99 MINUTES.”

All ads are based on propaganda and psychological manipulation techniques, but the latest round of “recession advertising” is especially genius. A billboard over I-35W for the Mall of America reads “the recession looks better in a new outfit”; a cigarette advert at a gas station prominently displays the words “you deserve a bailout too!” over a pictured pack of cigarettes, one coffin nail protruding invitingly.

The mall ad encourages the sort of mindset that got Americans into this mess in the first place: ignore the problems of the world, keep buying shit, and everything will be okay; shopping makes everything better; there are no consequences for consumption! The cigarette ad appeals to our sense of entitlement, which caused us, as individuals and a country, to take on piles of debt to perpetuate a lifestyle we couldn’t afford.

George Orwell couldn’t have devised a darker irony: corporations are trying to harness the anger and frustration at the unfolding slow-motion-train-wreck collapse of consumer culture to convince people to consume more. But the American consumer will tolerate any logical inconsistency, as long as it authorizes him or her to head to the mall and buy that new outfit.

Now standard protocol for this type of situation is to crank up Steve Miller Band on my iPod and let the “do do doo doo’s” of “Fly Like an Eagle” drown out the intruding words. But this time I decided to pop out my headphones, slow my pace, and absorb a snippet of their speech as I strolled by. I was immediately struck by their dialect. Though not quoting the bible directly, the diction and sentence structure sounded as if it came directly from one of the gospels. I felt as if I had been blasted by an overwhelming amount of salvation references: “And you shall be saved by the Lord our God”; “Our redeeming savior will come again.” The frequency of these references to the idea of being “saved” implied that these clean-cut preachers were here to rescue the lost, wandering souls of U of M students.

More eerie than their words was the manner in which they were delivered. By perching atop the Northrop plaza the men propped themselves up above the college students to whom they were speaking. The condescending tone of their words was physically represented in the situational context of their delivery. These mislead prophets only served to build up the religious barriers that separate us as humans.

Kevin Tully

Ocrilim’s Purging Trilogy is something I can appreciate for what it is.

There’s not really much going on in the whole damn thing except guitar track over guitar track over guitar track times infinite. It’s basically 2 hours and 12 minutes of one dude playing guitar. Now, I have to say I’m totally in awe of anyone that can see a project of that magnitude to completion. Especially considering the fact that all 24 tracks sound different from one another. That’s fucking impressive, I don’t care what you’re into.

But is appreciating this behemoth of a trilogy the same as enjoying it? No. It’s not. Though I certainly found some enjoyment out of a couple tracks on this three-part epic (Namely Ixoltion Part III and “Annothrith Hymn 5″), they were few and far between. I understand why people like heavy-handed experimental musicians like Ocrilim. And shit, if this sort of music is your thing then you’re totally gonna love The Purging Trilogy. It’s just not MY thing.

I’m not asking for the two hours of my life I spent listening to it back, I’m just saying that I probably wouldn’t do it again.

Angela Sanders

For an album that is over two hours long, not a whole lot happens.

The Purging Trilogy is a huge undertaking for the listener, and while I can appreciate Barr’s technical skills as a guitarist, I cannot help but be dissatisfied with the product as a whole. Part 1, Ixoltion, has a constant drone in the background and not much layered on top of it. The potential for an epic album to match its epic name was there. So, I waited. And waited. And waited.

Nothing.

The same phenomenon occurred in part 2, Sacreth: the drone and the minor layering, but nothing that caught me off guard.

At least part three, Hymns, had some variety. But the technical aspect had lost its intrigue and I felt like I was listening to my life just hum by. Music should be more engaging than that.

Basically, The Purging Trilogy is a two-hour guitar solo: great for the guitarist, but a musical drone for listeners.

Peter Starkebaum

It all starts with a pain bearing, angst-spiked guitar with an accordion-like drawl during Purging Trilogy I: Ixoltion. That leads to an annoying buzzing bass draped in static infused white noise. However, in this horror there is an attraction; the notes feel sensitive and bare, the guitar alone gives me the feeling of an open nerve being sliced. But the noise cuts not so sharp as serrated, and it makes my ears wince. The longer I listen, the more my mind circulates with annoyance and frustration. As I write this I am listening to Part II of Ixoltion, and all I really want to do is punch a spinning fan.

Actually, a spinning fan might be a good image for the first part of the album, in which repetitive rifts further urged on my frustrated attitude. However, as the album revolves toward Purging Trilogy II: Sacreth, it becomes clear that the progression of the album will reflect human life: a mingling of pleasure and pain.

In this case, that powerful collision occurs with mercy when the percussion breaks in as a grounding force to the relentless shredding. Finally, the album’s chaotic mood seems to have found relieving stability.

And then the Annothrith Hymns begin. They seem like a ghostly reflection of I and II, and I feel an oddness of opposites while listening to them, like a steady heartbeat after two cups of coffee. In reflection, the Hymn’s felt like a romantic after thought to the Sacreth’s Industrial Revolution, where the rhythm attempted to tame the raw wild guitar chords. Ultimately, the Hymns ended the album in a complete way and left a clear impression that the album had a distinct direction.

Overall, the experience was heavy and epic; it provoked perspective and true emotion. But if someone asked me if I enjoyed the new album, I would have to say it was like picking a scab: it took some cold shivers and necessary pain to get in to the warm, sensitive and bloody.

Sage Dahlen

Ocrilim’s The Purging Trilogy is more than an album. All told, it clocks in at just over two hours and twelve minutes. Seeing as so much music consumption is measured in seconds, listening to this project is sort of a commitment.

What fills that time could be described as a soundtrack to a torrential rainstorm, or a migraine headache. It’s long, self-indulgent, unremarkable noodling with some badass grunge and metal riffs interspersed (I’ll save you some time – the best track is Part 3 of Part II, Sacreth).

Trilogy, however, is not long in a “I-want-my-life-back” way, because it never fully holds your attention. You can troll around on the Internet, or make dinner while Mick Barr twiddles his fingers over guitar strings.

But how much can you really ask for from a solo guitar project?

Zach McCormick

My journey into Ocrilim’s uniquely daunting Trilogies was not one I willingly gave my full attention to. I’ve never been much of a fan of experimental classically-influenced metal. I’ve never been much of a fan of either classical music or metal, for that matter. This process was, at some times, akin to aural invasion by tiny alien buzzsaw. It was not fun.

But, I, ladies and gentlemen, am a Journalist. And that means something goddamnit. So I’ll listen to all two and a half fucking hours of this thing if it kills me, because ethics are the only fucking thing that matters these days anyway.

Look, I’m not going to say that the album’s final screetching, feedbacking decent into silence wasn’t the best thing to happen to me all night. I basically did everything I could to hold back the sweet tears of joy. But this is a legitimate work of music here people, and we have to treat it as such. Ocrilim may be the Public Enemy Number One within my auditory cortex, but he deserves a fair shake like everyone else, and I’ll be the man to give it to him.

This is actually a trilogy of Albums by the virtuousic solo guitarist Mick Barr. The first album being Part I: Ioxoltion and the second being Part II: Sacreth and you can see where this is going. Sacreth has a drum machine (the other two are solo guitar) and contains the album’s only highlight: “Part 4”. The rest of these songs, while all virtuosic and technical and lofty, really aren’t all that engaging. Great playing simply does not equal great album, and this record will really only appeal to diehard genre fans, who will probably love it because it’s a masterpiece. Everyone else is going to run in horror away from the mental sandpaper that is layer upon layer of buzzing, treble heavy guitar constantly switching tempo and time. If Rachmaninov had been raised in a stoner metal band, this is probably what he would have come up with.

So if you enjoy this sort of posturingly virtuosic playing from a fellow who probably spent many long hours pouring the midnight oil over at the music school, by all means, Trilogies is probably album of the year for you. For the rest of us however, it’s a droning torturous mess of buzz and pretense.

Finally, somebody cast Tom Waits as the Devil. As in Lucifer, the son of perdition, the tempter. Here, he is called Mr. Nick, a No. 2-mustachioed, top-hatted, cigarette smoking villain. Waits’ lines take on the distinct, timeless quality of a man not of this world, and his performance drives the comedic playfulness of the film, providing it with its most memorable dialogue. He plagues the life of the powerful Dr. Parnassus, a former mage/monk turned alcoholic mobile sideshow street attraction proprietor and performer. Parnassus (Christopher Plummer) is tragically flawed: he likes to gamble, and his usual opponent accepts nothing but the juiciest of stakes. The great doctor’s past catches up with him and he and his sideshow crew, with the dubious aid of Heath Ledger and company, must out-magic the Devil while dealing with their own stressed relationships and dreams of life beyond the imaginarium circuit.

The film, due to the untimely death of the talented Heath Ledger, had to undergo plot alterations which at times convolute an already fantastical story. As a Gilliam film it was never going to be easy to follow or entirely preoccupied with plot resolution and clarity, but the extra layer added by a character whose face repeatedly changes—for the other characters as well as for the audience—cannot be said to be smooth, but despite the fact that it is clearly unplanned, this does not detract from the narrative too strongly, and the situation lends to the film the chance for Johnny Depp, Colin Farrell, and Jude Law to play short parts, paying tribute as fill-ins for Ledger in the scenes he left unfinished.

It is not a movie for everyone, but for every Terry Gilliam, Heath Ledger, Tom Waits, or anything-but-the-same-crap-movie fan, The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus should be a treat.

Were there just not enough photos to choose from or was this really the best?

Finding its place in the first half of the stunning K & D Sessions, “Useless” is a slice of downtempo bliss that even those unfamiliar with the genre will appreciate. With a beat that deftly tiptoes the fine line between overwhelming and shallow and a bassline that is fluid beyond all words, “Useless” is a song that radiates calm focus. It is not dense and distracting but is engaging enough to keep you conscious during a marathon study session.

Like the best of Brian Eno’s work, “Useless” doubles as good background music and remains engaging when given a deeper listen. The mix is open, but where this can sometimes lead to monotony, “Useless” has enough subtlety that it remains entertaining. As is characteristic of trip-hop, “Useless” is a song of loops, but these loops are interesting, making them appear as more than parts on repeat.

If “Useless” proves anything it is that Kruder & Dorfmeister may very well be the most talented production team in the trip-hop scene. They are able to temper the wilder sides of their genre with more accessible elements without bastardizing their art. “Useless” is an incredible song, a true testament to the great things a couple of producers with a pile of studio equipment can do. For those looking to stave off the insanity that inevitably accompanies long hours in the library, “Useless” is the song for you.

the muppets sing queen’s “bohemian rhapsody”