On Saturday, June 20, 2009, the young and talented will stampede the Walker Art Center. Not to fear, the museum will be overwhelmed with talent, but it will continue to remain standing. That’s what the reinforcements are for. This year, the acts performing are The Decemberists, Calexico, Yeasayer, and Solid Gold. So gather your indie hipster friends, put on your best pair of skinny jeans, fashion shades, are-they-vintage-or-are-they-not loafers, and hop on those bikes you bought at a garage sale from a nine-year-old girl named Minka, and pedal (come on now, pedal faster) towards the Walker.

The Decemberists are undoubtedly the most well-known act performing at the event, and just happen to be headlining. Closely following in mass appeal is the folk-popish band Calexico, who incorporate experimental forms into their music. (Not sure what that means? —You’ll have to find out for yourself!) Brooklynites form the band Yeasayer, and together they combine a highly energetic rhythmic buzz with a slightly spiritual quality. They also possess a very commanding stage presence, and never leave the crowd disappointed. Opening this year’s show is local electro-rock group Solid Gold, which has managed to strike it big this year outside of Minneapolis, recently garnering fame and attention in the UK.

Tickets will be available to the public starting April 22, however if you are a member of the Walker, and/or Minnesota Public Radio, you can get them now. Like right NOW. Like put this down and hop onto your computer, slowpoke. Time is a runnin’ out. These tickets are anticipated to be a hot commodity; surely they are going to burn hotter than a Minnesota summer sun. Prices vary as the date gets closer, but if this concert is anywhere near as popular as it was last year, you are going to want to buy those tickets more than a month in advance.

Of the newer twist to his sound, Deacon makes ample use of digital synth drums and computerized sounds. Every track is filled to bursting with noise and sound, but Deacon, showing an incomparable ability to make sense out of the absurd, winds it all into coherent and catchy songs. In fact, this album has even more structure than Deacon’s last one, but still manages to contain all of the size his previous work carried.

For some reason though, the album just doesn’t touch me like his last one. There isn’t the freshness or surprise. Deacon makes his music in a sort of vacuum, really pioneering an individual noise. Part of the excitement that lies in Dan Deacon has to do with discovery, that freshness that exists in that new sound. But like asparagus, that freshness turns into something that smells kind of fishy after a while, and makes you think really hard about whether or not you want to digest it. That’s is kind of what Bromst is like after a couple of listens, it just comes out stale.

The album does have some very redeeming tracks, and it does have a lot of new sounds that were undoubtedly pounded out on some sort of digital electronica anvil. As a final statement, if you haven’t heard Deacon before, this would be a great album to start with. If you’re a standing fan however, it may not live up to expectation.

Released on March 31, Living Thing treads on similar ground as Architecture In Helsinki’s Places Like
This, while still maintaining enough originality to stand all on its own. The music is eccentric and rhythm-centered, with less of the straightforward structure usually common in their songs. Die-hard fans don’t fret; this album still holds all the ingredients of the distinctly recognizable Peter, Bjorn, and John sound: sparse arrangement and introspective themes, with songs containing great depth and refined tonality.

“Nothing To Worry About,” the album’s first single, is a modest effort, but lacks the ability to conjure up the same sort of notoriety the band achieved with “Young Folks.”

Other tracks of note include, “Just The Past,” “Lay It Down,” and the superior track, “It Don’t Move Me,” which stands far ahead of the rest.

Despite its occasional stumbles, Living Thing is a move in the right direction. The group is maturing, honing its style. Peter’s vocals have become the center of attention for this album, helping refine the overall cohesiveness of the music. Guitars, once the cornerstone of the band’s songs, make only short appearances to support the more prominent vocals. The stripped-down production will likely help separate them from other artists, who consistently build upon the complexity of their music rather than simplify it.

In time Living Thing will likely prove to be the stepping-stone for bigger and better things. Though this album doesn’t feel quite as developed as Writer’s Block, and at times can get tedious, the group deserves credit for pushing their own boundaries. The biggest hurdle facing them won’t be quality of the material, but whether or not they can sell it.

Orange Juice formed in 1975, originally calling themselves the Nu-Sonics until the formation of legendary indie pop record label Postcard. After joining the label, the Nu-Sonics changed their name and recorded their first album, You Can’t Hide Your Love Forever for under £100.

At this point, Punk’s macho attitude and the void left by Joy Division, left by Ian Curtis’ suicide, needed to be filled, hence Orange Juice’s success. Their single “Rip It Up” reached the number 8 position on the UK Singles Chart in February 1983 and ended up being the Bands only top 40 hit.
You Can’t Hide Your Love Forever is a pop-gem. Fusing post-punk like Joy Division and Funky guitar riffs like Chic, similarities can be drawn to Gang of Four. But unlike Gang of Four’s striking political message, Orange Juice was less serious, more lyrically ironic, and definitely more optimistic and will leave listeners with a pulpy, bitter-sweet after taste. One can’t help but nod her or his head to the rolling guitars in songs like “Upwards and Onwards” or “Wan Light.” The tempo of the whole album flows consistently and the slight variations on each of the tracks keep the album fresh after every listen.

Death was formed in the early 70s and was originally an R&B outfit until seeing either a live Stooges or Alice Cooper performance (or possibly both.) This event promptly influenced the band switching musical styles to harder, more aggressive rock music. The band would eventually fade to obscurity, with their only known recordings traded amongst zealot-like punk fans.

In 1975 at Detroit’s United Sound Studios, the band recorded seven songs. Two of the songs from the session became a 7” single (“Politicians in My eyes” and “Keep on Knocking”) of which the band self-released 500 copies.

That those seven songs can be found on Death’s most recent release, …For the Whole World to See, is a relief; this is music everyone needs to hear. Out on the infamous label Drag City, the songs are finally all released after 30 years of collecting dust in a basement.

Even today the songs feel quite fresh. With the hammering, powerful drums, and the super riffs that are comparable to Wayne Kramer of the MC5 and Fred “Sonic” Smith, the sound will enter through one ear, scoop out your brains and leave you wondering “where has this been all my whole life?” Popular albums get a chance to be re-released all the time, but there are always rare examples of something old still being new to discover. There is always a place to dig deeper in music, even a place like 70’s rock, which seems all too cleaned out these days. Death is not dead, it is just coming back to life and it will rock your soul into the grave.

Interested in hearing more about this album? Tune in to Radio K (104.5 FM or stream online at radiok.org) on Monday April 13 (or 20) at 8pm to hear hosts Phil and Mark gab about how much they love this record and even play a few tracks.

Now I’ve seen my fair share of charity albums, and from my experience, the majority of them are made up of various mediocre B-sides or lo-fi live recordings. But ambitious as their intentions usually are, the albums have never seemed to match the fervor. Dark Was The Night is a charity compilation of a different vein, namely that it is surprisingly good. On top of that, all the benefits gained from album sales are going to the Red Hot Organization, a group dedicated to raising awareness about HIV and AIDS through the exclusive medium of pop culture.

It is a rare occasion that I find myself completely smitten by an album, but as for this one I can honestly say, and in a completely non-cliché fashion, that it has something for absolutely everyone. It’s 31 songs long, with each and every one being brand-spanking-new and exclusively made for this album. The sound of it is all across the board and features a number of cooperative songs that simply can’t be found anywhere else (such as an exclusive Feist/Ben Gibbard track). I even find myself at a loss for words. The album in my mind is every music buff’s wet dream, mine included. Therefore there is a dual obligation to buy this album; not only is it amazing, but it is also for a great cause.

That’s the feeling I get from Mastodon’s new album. Either that or they’ve decided to play to all of their weaknesses. I mean, why else would they pull the ages-old “let’s go prog” card? Why else would they decide to sing rather than scream on nearly every track when their sung vocals are probably the weakest part of their sonic array? Why would they swap out veteran metalcore producer Matt Bayles for Brendan O’Brien, the king of radio-friendly butt-rock?

All of these elements combine to make an album that is overstuffed, self-indulgent and boring. It’s got extended keyboard intros, 13 minute songs, banjo intros and ridiculous lyrics about Rasputin, all of which may have been forgivable had the songs been interesting. Unfortunately, they’re not. Most of the songs are either sloppy collages of generic Mastodon riffs or, even worse, generic “rock” songs with hardcore flourishes tacked on because, hey, it’s a MASTODON record!

O’Brien’s production really only makes things that much worse because it turns the melodic portions of the songs into radio-rock messes that lack the crunch and power of Mastodon’s other records. The fact that most of the choruses on the album sound like they were ripped straight from 93X’s top ten is a big problem.

Of course, it’s not just about Mastodon going more melodic or wanting to write songs instead of riff. No, they’ve done that before on Blood Mountain and with fantastic results. The difference is that those songs felt like metal songs infused with good melodic ideas while the songs on Crack the Skye feel like mediocre songs infused with metal ideas. And lots of bad singing. Can’t forget that.

Besides telling them to JUST CUT IT OFF! Bald is distinguished!, it might help to remind these guys that their current fame rides on their quirky roles from the past. There’s no point hoping actors will relinquish the way they make big bucks. But as movie-goers, we can at least try to appreciate what once was.

Consider Nick Cage himself: he hasn’t delivered a solid performance since Matchstick Men. But despite his current every-man characters, Cage is an excellent performer. When he’s on his game, he is particularly suited for the southern outlaw character, a role he has consistently delivered on several occasions, including Wild at Heart, Raising Arizona, and Rumblefish. His dedication to fully assuming a role is especially evident in Wild at Heart. In the film, the Snakeskin jacket that becomes a symbol of Sailor Ripley’s eccentricity was not originally in the script or the book. It was Cage’s suggested to director David Lynch. Lynch wrote the idea into the film, and it has since become one of the things to iconify the character of Sailor Ripley. At no point does the character ever come off as unbelievable.

Another memorable Cage performance is his role in Leaving Las Vegas, for which he won the best actor Oscar. Cage portrays a man who has been laid off and goes to Vegas to drink himself to death. Cage brings an essential level of sadness to the character that a lesser actor might not have been able to capture. His task was to create a despicable drunk, but at the same time a completely redeemable individual. Cage does this so well that you can’t help but follow his every emotional up and down.

Perhaps Cage’s best performance, however, is in Adaptation. In this film, Cage succeeds in crafting not one, but two magnificent characters. Charlie Kauffman is a fast-talking, overweight, middle aged screenwriter based on the actual screenwriter Charlie Kauffman. Donald is his fictionalized twin brother, struggling to survive by trying his hand at screen writing. When Donald begins to succeed, it brings out the dejected, subtle depression of sibling rivalry in Charles, mixed with his disappointment of being overshadowed by a first-timer in his craft. At the same time, Cage is able to maintain the sort of ignorant success of Donald who is only too happy with himself and completely ignorant of his brother’s true feelings.

ational Treasure and its sequel, The Book of Secrets, might have collectively grossed over $200 million, but their plot-driven and sensationalist popularity will never match the studied and eccentric qualities of films like Adaptation and Wild at Heart. While actors like Cage and Hanks may stray into roles fit for box office success, there are still some fans out there who’d like the old Cage back.

To first understand web comics we need a little review of the elder sibling, the old fashioned regular print comics. When most of us think of comics we think stupid cliché stories with Superman and Spiderman swinging in just at the nick of time to save the day! The hero always wins and the girls are always in peril, and hot. While a good chunk of most mainstream comics are clones of each other, there are quite a few gems out there in the indie scene of comics. I am sure you readers know a few of them like Maus, and Jimmy Corrigan so I will not go into depth naming them all. Needless to say, comics have developed quite a fan base over the years, and the fans and artists were quite willing to take the plunge into the digital age, and so web comics were born.

There is no denying that there is a comic culture. We have all heard of the infamous “Comic Con” where no matter what level of nerd you, are you can have fun and meet some interesting people. (Sadly I have yet to attend, so I cannot give you a first-hand account of the goings on at this massive event.) Web comics of course have a small little niche carved out at the convention just for them, but I recently heard a rumor that they even held their own web comic con! Upon further Google searching I discovered the bizarre web comic con, which, like web comics themselves, was entirely digital! Hundreds of people met on Second Life to participate in games and listen to lectures from web comic artists. Apparently it was a success, the fans reveled in the fact that they could still dress their characters up in costumes, and now they could also perform feats like the actual characters without the normal risk of bodily harm! This is still a new convention, however, and recently just finished up its second annual convention.

A Random Sampling of Web Comics

Obviously web comic con still has a way to go to catch up with paternal original, but one has to wonder if there is any sibling rivalry going on between the two cultures? I discussed this with professor Roy Cook who studies philosophy and is a self acclaimed geek/nerd, he is also currently teaching a freshman seminar on comics, and is friends with several local comic artists. When asked if there is any friction between the two comic cultures he said “no.” He instead claimed that one was merely a stepping-stone for the other. The Internet has a lot of obvious advantages for small time artists, mainly being that you no longer have to find a publisher to get your work out there. All you need is a website and a bit of luck. Hopefully the artist can get enough views to get a publisher’s attention, and then he can step out into the mainstream. This has obviously led to a lot of small time comic artists; some who are just in it for a fun little past time and others who hope to graduate to creating regularly published comics. There are also an industrious few writers/artists whose main goal is to do just web comics. These few don’t view the Internet as a stepping-stone into print, rather as an amazing tool, which can unlock some hidden potential in comics. Professor Cook went on to explain another feature of web comic culture as having a ‘do-it-yourself’ kind of mentality. Since just about every computer today comes with the basic drawing applications, and even more advanced ones can be found for free online, what used to take a whole team of people to do can now be created with only one. Even a lack of drawing ability is not a set back for web comics. There are now photography comics and some comic writers such as David Rees have made web comics using nothing but computer clip art. While the first person that did this was surely clever, what can be said once this technique is copied? It is not surprising that many comic book creators view this approach as cheating, a shortcut to what should be an art form.

Few web comics are lucky enough to be self-sufficient, but most of us have probably stumbled across one of the few at some point. Some have limited animations and sound, some have interactive story lines, while still others have no story lines and are just full of jokes. This blending of media makes more traditional comic artists question the legitimacy of this new breed of comics. After all, isn’t the next step after limited animation full animation, and how much animation before it becomes a movie or a show? Web comics have had to walk a thin line between being incredibly innovative and cutting edge, and just being a bad animated cartoon.

Professor Cook also took issue with the lack of story line, which seems to be a popular trend of web comics asking, “why not just write a joke book?” Personally I love the one liner web comics such as XKCD. Sure they lack the art found in more traditional comics, but they are smart, witty, and free, and a good way to procrastinate. XKCD is actually one of the few self-sufficient comics mentioned above. The author was not always into comics, however. Randall Munroe actually worked for NASA. And not only that, he is only 24 years old. Why he would switch one acronym for another is beyond me. Especially since he was able to get a job at NASA at such a young age. (I can only hope that I will have a major by the time I turn twenty-four, let alone a job at NASA and successful self-made business). I don’t know how much money he is able to make from XKCD merchandise, but I somehow doubt it is greater than a salary at NASA. You can tell he is a smart kid from his comics, many of which involve math and science humor intermixed with something that tastes of Demitri Martin.

Randall Munroe is not the sole example of someone giving up a lucrative career in order to satisfy his or her inner nerd. Professor Cook did not share my shock at Randall Munroe’s decision. Apparently he knows a number of people who made similar decisions. One person who he mentioned to me was a man who used to practice corporate law, but now is a professional Lego sculptor. The world needs more people who say, “Screw this degree! I am going to draw stick figures!” Because where would we be without nerdy humor and giant Lego statues? And would we even want to be there?

Kicking off on the evening of April 16, the two-week festival will feature films from 52 different countries, precipitating world culture right into the Twin Cities. It will begin with a meet-and-greet soiree at the Bella Notte restaurant, where the film community will begin celebrating the craft of the films that reflect the eminently universal theme of the festival.

“I think we have a lot more variety this year,” Oestreich says. “I really see it in the films, and in the crew, and with the events. We’re bringing in diversity… with over 150 films. We’ve got a benchmark - I don’t think we’ve ever had [films from] more than 50 countries on one bill.” The countries of origin spawn from obscure, never-before-depicted-on-film nations like Mozambique, Macedonia, Burma and the Principality of Monaco to better-known locales such as Greece, France, China and the United States.

“We want to play a film that has not played in the Cities or even in the state before…a film that really represents a country or a subject matter cinematically and universally… we have to make sure that all the films have a universal theme, and come off so that everyone can understand them. We even shoot for the demographics of the Twin Cities… large populations of East Africans, Southeast Asians, and Scandinavians.”

Al Milgrom, the founding father of the University Film Society, is the official director of MFA and MSPIFF. Now heading a plentiful staff, he tours so-called first tier film festivals throughout the world, picking and choosing the perfect movies to bring back to the Twin Cities’ big screen. “Al goes to Seattle, Toronto, Sundance, Berlin, with his notebook, and basically rips through as many possible films as he can—then pulls out the best at each festival and brings them to Minneapolis… He seeks out producers and directors and sees if they want to be a part of our festival, and has been doing exactly this for the last 25 years,” Oestreich says. The ensuing worldly cinematic interaction is captured in the MSPIFF, whose prime motive is to “show the world.”

The universal theme of the MSPIFF is a “beautiful way to tell about another country,” says Oestreich. “If I can see a little of a country I would never travel to, I feel like I know a little more about it… The International Festival screens these people’s cultures and we want to show that.”

Thematic diversity is the festival’s most prized feat. Historical content revealed in a few Scandinavian films this year, about the Sami people of Northern Fenno-Scandinavia, may even be unfamiliar to the people from that culture. “[There are] a lot of undercurrent themes of climate change and culture,” Hartman says. New avant-garde indie films are also receiving their deserved notice.

“A film called Defamation takes a critical look at Jewish culture in America and how it paints Israel. It might irritate some people, challenge their values, but that is exactly what I want to show. I am not biased to any degree—I want to show a film from Iran as much as a film that criticizes America. I do. There’s no reason it shouldn’t play, and when I have the international spotlight right now, I’m going to shine it,” Oestreich asserts.

“Another examines problems in Peru, showing that there’s no way you can break the barrier in the class system. It’s therapeutic and it opens your mind, but it doesn’t drain you. It tries to help you understand the situation—it’s a big undertaking for anyone.” MFA’s decidedly open-minded stance on project selections sends a clear message that every culture, every type of belief system out there is being appreciated.

The community, however, is as big a part of the festival as the films themselves. Volunteers, projectors and viewers make it visual, real and uplifting. Hartman emphasizes: “[We’ve] connected a local element and tied every single possible community ethnic restaurant and any international aspect to take part in any way that they can in the film festival. For example, we went to a Croatian restaurant, and put up advertisements in Russian magazines. We’ve made a widespread effort to include every culture. Almost everyone has something they would like to promote on a cinematic medium.”

“There’ll be a lot of impromptu after-events,” says Hartman. “We want viewers to stick around after the film, find out what it was about, and talk to some of the directors.” To that end, Minnesota Film Arts has invited over twenty directors, producers, sound techs and cast members, many of them local, to present their films. Audience members will be given ballots to fill out about their favorite films, some of which will be chosen for post-festival screening at the Oak Street Cinema.

“I even put on a film for the frat boys,” Oestreich boasts of the documentary about the Las Vegas World Series of Beer Pong. “We’ve really tried to bridge the gap between international culture and hometown spirits, between generations,” Hartman added. “Stub & Herbs has been kind enough to host a party after the showing at Oak Street and invites everyone to play some beer pong.”

But not all is fun and games in the life of an organizer for a festival such as this; behind the scenes, a logistical whirlwind ensues—overnight FedEx’d film canisters, arrangement of guest star appearances, and managing secrets (such as what films will show for the opening and closing nights of the festival) as well as an army of specialized volunteers. Programmers had to be consulted for segments such as “Minnesota Made” and “Short Docs,” while the 35mm physical reels themselves had to be tracked down and fought over amongst other same-tier festivals going on concomitantly—even local competitors, such as the Beyond Borders Film Festival, have had the potential to co-opt some of MSPIFF’s highly-anticipated premiers.

To their credit, the team at MFA, being total celluloid purists, are proud to announce that more than two-thirds of this year’s lineup will be projected on their medium of choice—quite a feat in an era of almost entirely digitally shot/edited productions—with the rest being shown on Digibeta or HDCam enabled projection.

When asked about the venues, Oestreich assured us that this year’s festival would be run very much like the last: “Block E (Downtown) for the opening and closing galas, Oak Street, and Saint Anthony Main,” which will house the majority of MSPIFF’s shows.

Hartman also heads up volunteer coordination for this project. She tells us that, while a great number of the pre-festival details have already been locked down, volunteers are still being sought-after to help make the festival a huge success. Applications are currently being accepted for ticketing, ushering, events, etc., and anyone interested can send an email to info@mnfilmarts.org.

For two weeks, the crew at MFA will get to enjoy the fruits of their labors at MSPIFF. Those not scheduled to work certain events hope to get to as many showings as they can. Their infectious enthusiasm about each and every film and related event in the program is enough to make one want to drop everything from April 16-30 and become a major MSPIFF junky. Fortunately, festival passes are available in various amounts (5 films, 10 films, etc.) to help feed such an addiction, and to ease the burden on your wallet. Student discounts are also available.

After the festival is over, MFA staffers will be busy writing thank you notes, returning film canisters and cleaning up after an abundance of events. Milgrom will once again start his circuit of first-tier festivals, and Oak Street will resume its regular programming. Local theater owners from across the Metro may even try to incorporate some of the most noteworthy films shown at MSPIFF into their schedules for the upcoming year, as has happened in years past—giving people that “one last chance” to see a film they love on the silver screen. Aside from having a pricey Netflix membership, an opportunity to see this many quality films in such a short amount of time passes by this way only once each year. Go see an MSPIFF-affiliated show, stick around for the after-events, maybe even talk to a producer, director or actor in the motion picture. Play some art-sanctioned beer pong, and help to support the continuation of a very worthy (and educational) cause. Whatever you choose to do, we promise you won’t forget it. See you at the movies.

Whether it is blogging, the latest season of Lost or the plethora of recent psuedo-sequels that have crowded the video game marketplace, it’s clear that the partitioning of our free time will come in small, succinct, entertaining nuggets.

It’s nothing new really. A little guy named Mario has seen himself packaged, repackaged and then recycled one more time ever since he showed up in the 1981 smash hit Donkey Kong as a blob of red, blue and peach pixels. A winning franchise has always been the key to the industry and now with easier methods of delivery it’s becoming easier to squeeze a few more dollars out of every consumer.

The advent of Xbox Live has created a steady stream of revenue for Microsoft and game developers by delivering their products, old and new, directly to customers. From Beautiful Katamari’s myriad of bonus levels to extra multiplayer maps for Call of Duty 4 the business model sucks every cent out of our shrinking pockets. Then on top of this the user is confronted with movie rentals, music videos and customizable characters that you can buy virtual Lost and Damned clothing for.

Arguably these products are worth every penny, or should I say Microsoft Point, that they are being sold for. If consumers demand the products then go ahead and sell it to the malleable masses. It’s a perfect experiment in free market capitalism. What I’m afraid of is that the industry will catch onto to the fact that it can release a substandard product and then add-on this and that until you’re paying close to $100 for what should have been included in the original game.

But not all is bad. The Lost and Damned thus far lives up to my expectations. The thrill of living a new virtual New York City is gone, but because the game’s story is concurrent to Grand Theft Auto IV, I continue to play to see where Johnny met up with Niko Belic in the original story. There’s also something quite bad ass about riding in a motorcycle gang listening to The Doors “Five to One” or Styx “Renegade” in surround-sound. Call me a sucker for now, but when it’s a good product, I’ll shell out $20 for 10 hours of pure entertainment and a dose of aggravation.

That’s right, comrades: put away your neon hoodies and grab that pair of child-molester glasses, because 2009 is the year to be an old man playing music.

It all started with the release of Morrissey’s superlative new album, Years of Refusal, quite possibly the best work he’s done since his days with the Smiths. That’s pretty impressive when you consider that he’s been a solo artist for about four times as long as he was a Smith. The best thing about the album, though, is the way that he tackles aging, dying and obscurity; that is, with enough wit and venom to make literary gods (Keats, Wilde, etc.) proud. It’s his most human album to date and a welcome relief after years of self pity mixed with weird, pseudo-prog noodling. He’ll be stopping by the State Theatre on April 6, so you’ve got time to sculpt your pompadour and get that “Viva Hate” tattoo that you’ve always wanted.

Of course, Morrissey’s not the only old guy who’s decided to get awesome as he gets older. Last year, Nick Cave released Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!, an album that mixed Cave’s usual bluesy rock and brooding balladry with revved-up, garage-rock and deliciously profane lyrics. It was a pretty stunning achievement and—at the risk of sounding repetitive—the best work he’s done since 1996’s Murder Ballads—which, as a side note, contains the most deliciously profane song ever in “Stagger Lee.” This year, Cave is wrapping up a world tour, hiring a new guitarist and re-releasing his sizeable back catalogue. The first wave of re-issues will encompass his first four albums, which are all completely nuts and essential listening for anyone who wants to know what happens when a drugged-out Australian goth kid starts channeling Leadbelly and speaking in tongues.

And how could it be an old man party without the patron saint of old-dude musicians, Leonard Cohen, making an appearance? This year finds Cohen embarking on his first American tour in 15 years. In case you’re not wetting yourself, let me explain: this is big news. Cohen will be stopping by the Orpheum on May 3 and while tickets will cost somewhere in the neighborhood of a billion dollars and two pints of blood, it will be totally worth it if you can get the funding.

Not to be outdone by his aging peers, Tom Waits has announced plans to release a record this summer and is slated to show up in a bunch of movies playing either the devil or a grizzled cowboy. I mean, what else would Tom Waits show up as?

Oh yeah, and Jarvis has a new album coming out. I mean, he’s not as old as those guys, but he did write, “Help the Aged.”

See what I mean? Doesn’t all that make you want to sit by a fireplace with some volumes of Camus and gripe about the modern world? Maybe it’s just me, but I’m definitely wishing I could live out a vision of my twilight years that has nothing to do with abstinent vampires.

The Wake: Would you give a short description of your current projects?

HH: Zoo Animal (ZA) is about making commercially viable art that still challenges those listening and partnering with Tim Abramson (bass) to make really interesting compositions. This is the only project where someone else has creative force—Tim and whoever happens to be drumming at the time are very much a part of what makes up the sound of Zoo Animal.

Pas Moi is a project I use to explore more obscure places musically and lyrically using only my voice and electric guitar.

Pilgrim is simply my adventures in recording and composition.

My solo material is for folk-like compositions, with more explicit expressions of my faith.

The Wake: Your formal studies in music—including business, engineering and composition aspects—seem to be preparing you to be an auteur of sorts with your music. How do you feel about the idea of signing any one of your projects with a record label?

HH: The only project right now that I would be interested in signing would be with Zoo Animal because one of the goals with that project is to be commercially appealing. I am currently wading through some options with that. Part of the appeal to signing to a label is simply to know what other artists go through when they do sign.

The Wake: How did you originally get into music?

HH: I have no idea. I do have memories of sneaking into my parents room when they were out, turning on the hard rock station on their clock radio and jumping on the bed, and then turning it back to the station I found it on when I was finished, so they wouldn’t worry why their little girl was listening to heavy metal.

As far as guitar, when I told my parents that I wanted to get a guitar and they didn’t believe me that I would play it for very long, telling me I would get over it. I kept bugging them—I lived in Texas at the time and we came up to visit my cousin and he was selling his guitar and I convinced [my parents] to buy it for me. I feel like if [my parents] wouldn’t have said that—because I like a challenge so much—just because they said that “you won’t keep playing”—I had to. So I’m glad they said that because it made me want to play that much more.

The Wake: Majority of your shows have taken place in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area and around Minnesota—do you plan on touring anytime in the near future?

HH: Yes, definitely. Nothing concrete yet.

The Wake: What can listeners expect from your current projects—any upcoming releases?

HH: A lot of decisions are to be made. No releases set in stone, but ZA is ready to record, and I have a bunch of unreleased solo material I am interested in compiling. Just waiting to see how some things play out.

The Wake: What are you listening to these days?

HH: The MPLS Ltd Travel Companion by DJ Christian Fritz and Stabat Mater by Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, performed by Fabio Bondi: Europa Galante.

Director Zack Snyder (Dawn Of The Dead [2004], 300[2007]) has chosen to remain visually faithful to the source material to the degree that it is a liability against the film. Trimmed segments, which are extensive and necessary, are not accounted for, and the film never eases into its own identity. Enough of the irrelevant is preserved, and too much thematic exposition is canned for the film to be anything but a jumbled mess. Context is often ignored in the interest of shot-for-shot reproduction of a graphic novel, which is itself flawed. Most of the principal acting ranges from adequate to outstanding. The Comedian and Rorschach, in particular, are very well adapted and understood by their respective actors, Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Jackie Earl Haley. The film’s actors will receive an exposure bump - assuming, as the film’s promo material states, that justice truly comes to us all.

The film falters in bringing the thematic depth of the graphic novel to life, and seems to enjoy earning its ‘R’ rating in ways that are irrelevant and contrary to the source material’s handling. The kitschy, obtusely iconic soundtrack is mixed annoyingly loudly and was inappropriately chosen. In contrast, the film’s score is often elegantly understated and filled with ambient synths evoking a casual, effective period immersion. This distinction is analogous to the film itself. Watchmen flies when it does the minor due diligence of appropriating the material for itself, and it fails spectacularly when it drag-and-drops the work of others without consideration or context. Aside from bringing attention to some worthy and devout actors, one hesitates to imagine what good will come of this exercise in medium-swapping.

“Hold Time,” a somber ballad built upon orchestral flourishes and mellow synths, slows down the album’s pace. Next, Buddy Holly’s classic “Rave On” is transformed into a slower, more hypnotic version, but does not stray far from the song’s original roots. Speeding up again, Hold Time relapses into upbeat pop. M. Ward’s voice is especially sugar sweet when it is spot-lit with mild guitar chords. That same mellowed-out guitar sound is instrumental in one of this album’s big improvements over his last effort: good choruses.

Hold Time flows by from track to track, through harmonic transitions that tie each piece together. Warbling chords are plucked vigilantly in “Stars of Leo” only to be subtly electrified on “Fisher of Men.” The melodies are underscored by frolicking piano lines. The sound leans toward a melodic country tone near the end, only to ricochet with a distant echo, singing “Well, put your head on my shoulder, baby, tell me where it hurts.”

Hold Time often relies upon warm earth tones and gives us a panoramic view of M. Ward’s internal world. Although it’s a warmer, cheerier release, lonely minor keys slip in frequently, betraying the nature of Ward’s solitary artistry. His whispering voice fills in empty spaces and glues together nostalgic instrumentals. Whether a bedtime playlist, optimistic release, or collection of hopes, it serves well.

Right off the bat, there’s a lot to like about Mama, I’m Swollen. It’s easily the most tight, focused and stripped down Cursive record since The Storms of Early Summer. The wonky electronics and stylistic detours of old-new Cursive are replaced by impressive performances and dynamic songwriting. In fact, dynamic is the best way to describe the record; the dominant musical idea here being the constant push and pull between gentle guitar-pop and atonal, “we used to be into hardcore” wailing.

And, yes, I really do mean guitar-pop. Mama is essentially Cursive making a depressing pop record—one that sounds not unlike frontman Tim Kasher’s other project, the Good Life. While this newfound interest in pop songwriting produces some great singles material, (“Donkeys,” “From the Hips”) it’s also responsible for a few unfortunate forays into melodramatic balladry that really should have been left on the cutting-room floor (“We’re Going to Hell”). The rest of the album veers between those two poles, blending poppy melodrama with discordant punk, garage and the bizarre prog-cabaret thing that Cursive have been into since that one time they decided to get a cello player.

Mama is a clear improvement over Happy Hollow, but it’s also a very strange Cursive record. While many fans may dismiss it as too poppy or quiet, the album has more than it’s fair share of charms. It’s a work that rewards patience and perseverance with those awesome moments when everything pulls together perfectly. It’s the kind of album that will grow on you, which is an unexpected but not unwelcome change for a band that has made a career out of disaster.

While the basis of three-dimensional or stereoscopic filmmaking is not new, new techniques have emerged in recent years. 3D movies in the past have largely been used to awe audiences and give them something to be excited about when going to theatres. However, none of these movies have been considered classics or films of great substance. The recent revival of stereoscopic film in theatres (e.g. Coraline, My Bloody Valentine in 3D, Beowulf) has been accused of being a gimmick to solve poor theatre attendance. While recent popularity of the technology may in fact be an attempt to increase ticket sales, supporters argue that 3D is no longer a gimmick employed to create mere thrills , but instead the future of filmmaking.

Director, producer and writer James Cameron sees stereoscopic technology as a tool that only needs to be properly implemented by directors to be successful. This means, composing and directing films with the notion that they will also be viewed in 2D in homes or theatres that lack equipment to project stereoscopic films . During actual filming, Cameron states that only a few small adjustments need to made in lighting and camera placement to achieve a successful stereoscopic image. Just as there
exists a camera team to actively make decisions about things like focus on set, Cameron suggests there should be a “stereographer” – preferably a person with a great deal of experience in stereoscopic composition – to advise the director of the options available for creating a three dimensional environment on film. While Cameron sees the potential for stereoscopic filmmaking, he is also convinced
that it is a mistake to make a stereoscopic film that is dependent on this feature for its success in theatres. He asserts that the elements of story, cast and imagery among other factors must still characterize any given film.

Skeptics, such as renowned film critic Roger Ebert, argue that 3D disconnects the audience from a film because our brains interpret the space as artificial . This is a popular opinion held against stereoscopic technology – that the stereoscopic effect has been used to woo audiences with images that project meters from their perceived origin, often abruptly, which interrupts the continuity between audience and the story. This continuity may be further interrupted by the physical barrier of 3D glasses – a cumbersome aspect of the 3D technology that will not be disappearing from the theatres anytime soon.

While filmmakers such as Cameron seek to correct stereoscopic work in the theatre and show that it can be used to enhance the cinematic moment rather than destroy it, the question seems to remain as to whether or not stereoscopic tools will grow as an art . What creative solutions and processes will come when filmmakers begin to experiment with stereoscopic technology for purposes outside of cheap thrills?

To begin investigating these questions, here a re two reviews of the new movie Coraline.

[ 1]
I was deprived of one added (and essential) dimension of Coraline when I saw it in 2D. I couldn’t say that I wasn’t warned : the theater put posters on all of the pillars near the box office stating that Coraline would be playing in 2D because the theater’s projectors could not support thetechnology. This wasn’t the only way thatt he theater cut corners to save a few dollars . I (willingly) paid $4 for a Dixie sized cup of blue raspberry Icee.

Throughout the film the right side of the screen had scratches that looked like runs in nylon stockings. I
thought it wasn’t too much to ask of the theater to get a non-damaged copy of a film that they did not have the technology to project properly. But the scratches were only distracting in particular moments in the film when it should have turned 3D, but just ended up being shiny. I couldn’t help thinking what I was missing stuck in two dimensions of Coraline’s meticulously detailed set.

[2]
The Gadgetwise Blog at nytimes.com has had six posts concerning 3D technology in the last four months. The overwhelming idea that comes through in Eric A. Taub’s research is that although movies in 3D are getting a lot of attention right now, this trend is a mere flash in the pan. The real news is that 3D technology could soon be available closer to home. Much closer. Taub predicts that films in 3D are not going to be able to sustain a large audience, because eventually we ’ll all have this technology in
our living rooms.

The Neil-Gaiman-children’s-book-turned-movie, Coraline’s, subject matter seemed appropriate for 3D viewing; the film deals a lot with fear, as is to be expected from Tim Burton. But the “ooh” worthy 3D effects were few and far between. Watching an animated garden bloom around you is pretty neat, and seeing a sewing needle protrude out dangerously close to your eyes is unnerving, especially within the context of this movie. But it’s hard to say if these 3D perks made the experience significantly more enjoyable . Especially when going to see a film in 3D can cost up to half again as much as a normal movie ticket. I liked the film, and the 3D elements were fun , but much of that was due to novelty. I can’t imagine watching everything that way. Let alone watching Ice Age X I that way.

While keeping the 3D glasses is allowed , the “green” part of me whined until I threw them in the recycling receptacle outside the theater. How exactly they are recycled, I don’t know. But I don’t imagine there is a discounted price for bringing your own glasses anyway.

Every summer, Father Hennepin Park is host to the annual Stone Arch Festival of the Arts. The focus is bringing out local artists and creating a space where children can explore different mediums, whether it is finger painting or scraping crayons across a canvas. Participating kids even create their own art to take home.

That’s a large focus of the “smaller” art movements in the Twin Cities; bringing it back around to the young ones. They will learn and develop and in time, turn around and give it back again. The circular nature of this method cultivates a strong sense of community and rich experiences in all members. Every summer, art festivals (Loring Park, Powderhorn, Uptown Art) have youth oriented contests designed to draw in young artists. Prizes are significant, most being a spot to show the completed work at a festival, a spot that would otherwise cost a hefty sum. For any aspiring artist, this prize is a must-have.

Such is the case of the Uptown Art Fair, which in its forty-five year history has grown into a massive showcase of local art. The “Tomorrow’s Stars Seen Today” contest gives the winning young artist a chance to set up a gallery next to seasoned veterans in the community. Such an opportunity would certainly promote the experienced mentoring the newbies. It’s all about conversation, inspiration, and creation.

From there the growth moves on into the galleries. The local mixes with the global and these perspectives meld to create pieces of art that have been twisted beyond the conventional borders of the past.

But don’t be fooled into thinking that art fairs get all the fun. The Soap Factory gallery is all about unconventional, visual stimulation. The Soap Factory certainly pushes the envelope in terms of what “art” is and invites creators from all over the world to the Twin Cities. From ceiling high installations built
from plastic straws and push pins, to inflatable modular trash bag symbols, the art put on display at this gallery does what it wants. The same could be said of the artists.

This wild and experimental choice of exhibits runs throughout the community. A step inside the Walker Art Museum will provide a walk down an unconventional road. So what does all this experimentation mean? The Twin Cities are looking onward with their art, pushing the limits on what can be done, and once again children are a great resource for this forward direction.

The Minneapolis Institute of Arts, among other museums and galleries, has several resources for teachers and students in the Twin Cities. Besides having various educational opportunities for students at the Institute, there is a joint online database combining full-color images of artwork from both MIA and The Walker Art Center. All of this is accompanied by audio and video samples and textual information. A student only needs a computer and online access to discover the past and think about the future.

For those who don’t have ready access to the Internet, the art will travel to them. The Art Adventure Program brings trained volunteers to participating schools. Students are able to view posters and pictures with the theme of their choosing. From animals to culture to relationships, the way students can learn these ideas and concepts from the art they view will instill creative thinking and a knack for working out puzzles.

The fertility in the Twin Cities’ art community comes from the acknowledgment of what past creators have done with their initiatives and turning those lessons into something of our own. The equal taking and giving though that art helps to form a view of what the Twin Cities are all about. But that image is FYOI: for your own interpretation.

The book follows 15-year-old Ruby through her sophomore year at Tate Preparatory School in Seattle. Ruby isn’t like the other students of the “Tate universe.”

“I have a riff on my family,” Ruby says. “I spin into it whenever anybody asks me, because my parents are different than most of the people at Tate Prep … Tate is for rich kids mainly. Kids whose parents buy them BMWs when they turn sixteen. The dads are plastic surgeons and lawyers and heads of department store chains and big companies. Or they work for Microsoft. The moms are lawyers too—or they do volunteer work and have great hair. Everyone lives in big houses with views and decks and hot tubs (Seattle people love hot tubs), and they take European vacations. My folks are madmen by comparison.”

This novel is perfectly set-up to be the epitome of angst-y teenage pop fiction. But it isn’t. Against the Meg Cabot-Ann Brashares-Sarah Dessen grain, Ruby isn’t an outsider because of her differences. In fact, she considers herself “slightly popular.” She has friends. She goes out on weekends. She attends school dances. And, she has gotten enough attention from men in order to put 15 of them on her “boyfriend list.”

But just because Ruby isn’t the stereotypical young-adult-fiction heroine doesn’t mean that her life is without its share of teenage difficulties. After suffering a series of panic attacks, Ruby’s overbearing parents—in one of the novel’s most empathy-evoking scenes—decide she needs to see a therapist.

It is after her first session with Dr. Z. that Ruby makes her list of boyfriends—her first mental health assignment.

Ruby’s list isn’t what it seems.

“Before anyone reading this thinks to call me a slut—or just imagines that I’m incredibly popular—let me point out that the list includes every single boy I have ever had the slightest little any-kind-of-anything with. Boys I never kissed are on this list. Boys I never even talked to are on this list.”

The following fifteen chapters focus on each of the boys from her list. Interspersed with stories about summer camp crushes and unwanted suitors, Ruby reveals to the reader the source of all her anxiety and panic.

She breaks up with her boyfriend, loses the rest of her friends for doing a forbidden act with said ex-boyfriend and, amongst other things, fails a math test, gets caught drinking her first beer, loses a lacrosse game and becomes a leper—an outcast in the “Tate universe.”

This is not a spoiler. Ruby reveals early in the book why she has “had a bad week,” in her words. The point of the book is not to chronicle the trials and tribulations of high school, but rather to explore the inner-workings of the female mind.

While the twists and turns of the plot can seem concocted at times, the characters and the relationships between them are highly realistic. The author uses the semi-unrealistic situations to emphasize the realism of the individuals. The reader believes what happens because in a similarly outlandish situation,
he or she would do the same.

As Ruby tells us her story, we begin to understand how each boy whom she has come into contact with has impacted her greatly and shaped the young woman she has become. Ruby may only be fifteen, but women of all ages can relate to her.

Perhaps the best part of this novel is its therapeutic value. Ruby eloquently explains the things that women think but can’t put into words. When Ruby talks about her first kiss, the reader will no doubt be reminded of his or her first kiss. When she relates the anguish of not receiving a gift from her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, the reader feels her pain. And when she considers simply becoming friends-with benefits with a jock at school, the reader understands her logic.

Ruby just wants to be loved and valued, and the reader just wants to value and love her.

Reading this short, 220-page, novel is the equivalent of telling a therapist your every insecurity, every worry and every fear about relationships, and receiving constructive feedback. The reader’s choice, like Ruby’s, is whether to take it or not. The Boyfriend List, by E. Lockhart, is available in hardcover from Random House Inc.

The album features three tracks, averaging over eight minutes each. The first track, “Overport,” opens on a thick-sounding synthesizer that seemed promising and indicative of the good musicianship to follow. The piece drones on until after three minutes, when all sounds cease except for what I would imagine a snare drum panting from exhaustion would sound like.

“Overport” flows nearly seamlessly into “Papa Thesis” with background textures that relax. Drawn-out and synthesized orchestral strings are fuzzed and characterize the duration of the song. Hesitant notes eventually chime a melody that tests itself among the other sounds apparent in the song’s core. The Papa Theses EP gives an ominous feeling of uncertainty to its tracks, none of which contain vocals. The final track, “Bol,” seems more of a separation from the album’s other tracks, emphasizing cymbal use and sounds redolent of deep space.

Overall, the sound feels experimentally cathartic—begging the question of what can be left behind?—amounting to a somewhat lackluster release. The focus of Tarlton’s music has been and continues to be about drums and rhythm; however, the beats now feel commonplace and overworked, lacking the energy to separate them from being sounds to being something that can be appreciated for artistic quality and inventiveness. Nonetheless, Papa Theses will keep your feet tapping and head bobbing in that surface level enjoyment that seems to be everpresent these days.

You can see Tarlton live and watch Bullion sculpt his sound piece by piece, on March 13 at the Papa Theses release show at 7th Street Entry. Papa Theses will be available in stores everywhere or via www.afternoonrecords.com on March 10.

First, things that are good about Never Better: The frequently employed heavy drums, thick bass, fast momentum-pushing drumrolls, and Stef can still rap pretty dang well.

Still, I feel Doomtree-fatigued, like I’ve heard a dozen records with all these people rapping on them and rapping about the same things. Where is the new? Where is that which will make me feel like I’m listening to something that I haven’t heard before?

The record is solid. P.O.S. can rap like a motherfucker, and he doesn’t give a fuck what you think of him, and if he can be a little sentimental at times and a little over-pop-referential at others, at least he disses Obamarama in one song and sings a Fugazi lyric in another. So maybe the reason why I don’t feel it like I felt Ipecac is a problem with me and not with the album. Maybe real criticism is impossible and we’re all just hanging out rationalizing our subjective emotional responses. Whatever. I hung out with Stef a couple weeks ago. I beat him at Super Smash Brothers. He was nice and funny, and he told me that he really, really likes making rap records.

Although Auerbach doesn’t stray too far from his standard dirty delta blues approach, Keep It Hid poses as a completely different record in some respects. With the absence of PatnCarney, the album lacks the raw energy that made the Black Keys so damn entertaining in the first place, but Auerbach manages to compensate with his uncanny ability to reach all ends of the rock ‘n’ roll spectrum. Kicking it off with a whimper, “Trouble Weighs a Ton,” one of the few acoustic trackson the album, gives us a chance to hear some soothing vocals devoid of all distortion. “Real Desire,” a mid-tempo love song, blends majestic organs with some twangy guitar licks, producing what is probably the most beautiful thing Auerbach
has written since “The Lengths,” from the 2004 release Rubber Factory. Although let it be duly noted that this claim is immediately contested by the following track: “When the Night Comes.”

Keep It Hid manages to keep you attentive through its various styles. The urgency of “Streetwalkin,” as well as the channeling of Jerry Garcia in “Last Mistake,” “When I left the Room” and “The Provvl,” seem like they wouldn’t be too out place on a Black Keys record either. If you like The Black Keys you’ll probably enjoy Keep It Hid and if you don’t, hell, try giving it a spin, it’s probably got something almost anyone can enjoy.

The show has multiple dimensions, none of which make a coherent program – barring a short intro and credits. Many portions of episodes feature the two creators Tim and Eric dressed up as women in a sketch or doing something that seems to make no sense at all. Yet, somehow, everything in the show brings laughter, with some moments reaching “instant classic” status.

In one episode, there is a commercial for something they call “The Poop Tube.” The point is that with this apparatus, you can poop while standing and it shoots the poop out of a giant tube past your head. It is so disgusting that laughter is impossible to avoid. They show more shots than anyone would think necessary of poo shooting all over a toilet stall from a guy standing up. This is just one form of their dozens of gross out sketches.

Between all of this there are edits of Tim and Eric just saying random things or making strange noises that are rehashed and repeated several times. The show gets so weird it becomes captivating.

The show often includes famous comedians in random scenes. In one episode Chris Parnell of SNL sells mattresses and when he goes to sleep he dreams of ripping a guys arms off and eating the bloody flesh. It is so unexpected, gory, and off the wall that it’s pure comedic gold.

The Tim and Eric Awesome Show isn’t for everybody, but it is tailor- made for the Youtube generation. With sub par video and crude sketches not all individuals will find this show entertaining. On the other hand, most will, and it should definitely be checked out by anyone who has a few extra minutes. Clips can be found at adultswim.com. The show isn’t always spot on, but the way the writers go over the top and then some on the goofiest of thoughts, you’ll be sure to have a chuckle or in most cases wind up laughing hysterically.

After working closely with record labels since age fifteen, Miller grew tired of the digital state of music. He says, “With the resurgence of vinyl, people are trying to get back” to a dying method of listening to music. So, about a year ago, he decided to start Room Tapes, a local cassette tape label that he operates discreetly from a MySpace page. While his friends and roommates often lend a hand, Room Tapes is really Miller’s project—his personal sound-print.

Room Tapes produces limited quantity tapes in multiples of one hundred, all of which are hand-numbered. When you handle them, the do-it-yourself spirit of Room Tapes is clear, from the textured original artwork on the hand-cut cassette cover, to the typewritten label on the back that asks you to “enjoy.” Bands interested in releasing tapes with Room Tapes send him digital files or a cassette recording. Then Miller uses his “one lonely duplicator” to churn out copies. His customers span many ages. One of his best is a woman in her mid thirties from California: “If someone buys our tapes, then they really want to listen to it.” People can buy Room Tapes at Treehouse Records, place PayPal orders via MySpace, or send Miller an email for him to bicycle-deliver the tape to their door.

Miller is not the only kid handing out four-dollar records. Minneapolis is full of little tape distributors. In fact, Miller’s friend Gordon runs Peddling Tapes, and his friend Liz operates Tardigade. But unlike other local places, Miller’s plan isn’t just focused on what comes out of Minneapolis and St. Paul: “I’m more interested in what’s going on around the country that I can bring to the cities. There’s been a lot of emergence of low-fi surf type music lately that’s taking over the radio, and I’m trying to bring some more of that out here, because all of it’s kind of getting the same with the punk rock and everything. I’m trying to bring different stuff.” Miller says starting Room Tapes was “about being a part of something. I can’t play any instruments at all, whatsoever. So this is me—because I thoroughly enjoy music—this is me trying to give people something that they probably wouldn’t hear.” Some soon-to-be released albums on Room Tapes come from Ancient Crux, Crappy Dracula, Fuck Montreal, and Minneapolis’s Total Babe.

This summer, you’ll find Miller in his garage, which he plans on transforming into a neighborhood shop of sorts, called the Synthetic Flying Machine. He and his friends will hang out duplicating Room Tapes projects, selling paintings, original clothing, blank tapes, tape players, and more. Like Room Tapes, they want to make it a place for everyone.

Gabriel has had a wide and prosperous career, mainly noted for his stint with progressive rock super group Genesis. Like his band mate Phil Colins, Gabriel has done some movie soundtracks. And ,unlike Colins, Gabriel does not collaborate with ’N Sync and does not yell about being a Caucasian man raised by apes in the jungle. Instead, he made landscapes of sound for Rabbit Proof Fence and contributed some tunes to the more recent Pixar movie Wall-E. He has worked with a myriad of different artists from the pope-hating, Irish baldy Sinead O’Connor, the electronically driven Laurie Anderson, to the unpredictable Peter Hammill.

After leaving Genesis, Gabriel began working on his three self-titled albums, his finest being his third (or otherwise known as Melt, as seen on his cover art.) This particular album would have Gabriel honing his influential and distinct sound.

Melt consists of 10 detailed, multi-layered tracks that strike at everyone’s caveman core. The apparent lack of certain traditional rock instruments, like cymbals, gives the album a frightening, empty feeling. Synthesizers and drum machines add chilling electricity, in opposition to the more tribal aspects.

Even though there is a particular coldness to Gabriel’s singing voice and lyrics, there is also a sexy, more passionate side. One of the faster paced and bass heavy tunes, “I Don’t Remember,” has a definite foot tap-ability after the slower, saxophone driven instrumental of “Start.” Gabriel is definitely playing with different moods and styles, like a mad scientist putting together different human parts to form a monster.

Gabriel’s infatuation with tribal vocals and music combined with his experience in progressive rock music and his willingness to experiment with electronic technology come together almost perfectly on his third solo album. With the overwhelming amount of instrumentation and production, it can easily flood the ears. I admit I had to give the album a few tries before it struck, but when it strikes, you begin to look past silly movie romance and begin to get serious.

Tune into Radio K’s Last Year’s Model on Monday February 23 and March 2 at 8 p.m. to hear the consistent babble of hosts Phil and Mark and hear why Peter Gabriel III makes Phil Collins legit.  Well, maybe.