SuperSatellite

The Next Great American Crap

// November 30th, 2007 // 2 Comments » // Entertainment, Music, Reviews, Television

Raise your hand if you watch American Idol. Okay, fair enough. Now, raise your hand if you have been watching one of their latest spinoffs, The Next Great American Band. You know, I was sort of excited for this show, to be perfectly honest. The problem I have with AI is it’s little more than a diva singing competition. I’m not a big solo performing artist fan anyway, except in cases where people I already respect from established groups expand their repertoire through solo stuff. Except Scott Strapp. DIAF Scott Strapp. You suck.

If you can’t tell from my tone yet, the only reason it’s on right now is because there’s nothing else on worth watching. I have an antenna and get a total of four channels. And crap like this is the reason I don’t even bother paying for cable. First off, the title for this show is all wrong. It should be: The Next Great American Cover Band. How the hell can you really tell how good the groups are if you never get to hear any original stuff? And if you know anything about music, you know you can’t throw a dozen bands together and ask them all to perform a single artist next week. Come on, asking a metal band to do Elton John? They’re doing it wrong.

So I want to just do a quick once over on this week to show you what you are “missing” out on. Don’t expect this to be a weekly occurrence, I don’t think I have the stomach for it.

The Host/Judges

Dominic Bowden: Well, he’s from New Zealand. He hosted New Zealand Idol. Apart from that, if he has any musical background, it’s not really a top career note for him. But he’s a host, so no big deal.

Sheila E.: She’s a 50 year old drummer. She’s never been in a notable band (unless you count Prince’s backup band). She’s worked with the likes of Prince and Ringo Starr, but a lot of performers have worked with lots of famous people. Doesn’t give them instant credibility. When you hear about great drummers, you will never see her name along with the likes of Neil Peart, John Bonham, Shinya. But by Buddha, she’s helping find the next great American band.

Ian Dickson: He’s a producer and essentially a counterpart to Simon Cowell. Because that’s how the formula has to work. He’s not as much of an ass, but he does have an accent (English or Australian, depending on the night, but in all fairness he is an English born Australian citizen. Double points!) .

John “How Emo is My Hair Now” Rzeznik: How can I put this delicately? If I had to choose a top 25 of band frontmen to judge on this show, I would lay down $20 that he wouldn’t make my list. The Goo Goo Dolls are okay. I know their singles alright. I have several of their albums. But seriously, they haven’t had a good one since 1998. The only reason Rzeznik still has a career in the first place is because people like spelling his name on stuff. He’s an average vocalist and an okay guitarist, and little more. He’s right at home next to Sheila E. anyway, because neither one is fit to pick from talent that should, in theory, be leagues beyond them. Then again…theory….

The Bands

Dot Dot Dot: Jesus Christ…this band is the Sunjaya of TNGAB (that’s my clever way of shortening The Next Great American Band, because I don’t want to write it over and over). They refuse to die, despite all apparent logic.  Their “frontman” is so androgynous that he gives David Bowie a hard on. Not to mention he’s a terrible singer, and their bassist looks like a used up 40 year old hooker. They’re like the special ed. version of My Chemical Romance. And I hate My Chemical Romance too. Every week I wait for them to go down in flames, and they keep coming back because every 12 year old idiot with a cell phone votes for them.

Denver and the Mile High Orchestra: I actually kinda like these guys. I like the big band quality to their music, and respect the work that goes into coordinating that much instrumentation. But the Mighty, Mighty Bosstones have been there, done that, and kicked these guys’ asses. Not edgy enough and too plain. Probably #2 in the show at this point though, however probably too unique of an arrangement to carry votes that far.

Sixwire: After week one (yes, I watched more than just this week’s episode, but I swear to Buddha that I don’t do it regularly), I said these guys would win. With who’s in the top 5, it’s a certainty now. The problem? Too country-rock. Big and Rich have already done it. But the fact that they are actually country doesn’t really come through, since 80% of the show performances are covers. They are a very tight, well rehearsed, generic band. They cover well, and play well together. I predict two albums before fading into obscurity.

The Clark Brothers: An acoustic three piece. Except…no. In fact, hell no. Sheila E. was speechless after their crappy rendition of You’re in My Heart. I can understand I suppose, I was pretty surprised by how awful it was too. Let’s name some famous three pieces, shall we? Rush. Green Day. ZZ Top. The Jimi Hendrix Experience. Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble. Cream. See, a three piece is pretty hard to screw up. Bass, guitar, drums. That’s sorta the essence of a trio. When you don’t have drums, and you don’t have bass, that pretty much makes you a novelty. They are pretty boys. They play their instruments fine, but there is no way that an acoustic three piece is the next great American band. I would stop listening to music if they were to win. If it weren’t for the musical poison that is Dot Dot Dot, these guys are at the bottom of my list.

Light of Doom: Okay, I am pulling for these kids. They are like Hanson, if Hanson was fueled by Satan. But seriously, this is a metal band comprised of 12 and 13 year olds that rock harder and play better than people I’ve seen twice their age. The down side, there’s a lot of growing up to do there. They can’t win, I don’t think, no matter how hard they try. In fact, I could see them dropping at any point. They didn’t even know who Elton John and Bernie Taupin were, not that I’d expect them too, but it was certainly funny when they had to say Bernie’s name. But you gotta admit, it’d be cool to be doing something like that at that age. But in the words of Denis Leary: “There’s a giant rehab festival just waiting to happen. Those kids are going to crash and burn, and it’s gonna be great. That drummer, what is he, six? They’re gonna find him in a hotel with an eight-ball and a hooker.”

Special Mention

Franklin Bridge: These guys got dropped three weeks ago. I only mention them, because they were my original #2. And in all fairness, I think they were the “surprise elimination.” They were probably the best band on the show, and the only reason I pegged them at #2 was because of Sixwire’s broader, generic appeal.  Look them up, because they were very underrated, and sure as hell deserved to be on longer than Dot Dot Dot, Très Bien, and Cliff Wagner and the Old #7.  They had a rocky-rap, funk rock, Lenny Kravitz kind of thing going on that worked really well for me.

So that’s that.  I hope I didn’t spoil the fun for you.  But really, there aren’t many reality shows that bug me like this one.  Maybe because I enjoy music, and the fact that they think one of these bands deserves the break they’ll be getting is a mockery.  In fact, none of the top 12 could really hold a candle against the likes of Aerosmith, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Metallica, or any other of the dozens of bands who’s music will live on longer than any of their members.

Ressurection: Curse of the Komodo

// July 14th, 2006 // 1 Comment » // Entertainment, Movies, Reviews

What follows is a movie review I had previously posted on SuperSatellite back in May of 2004.  What made me think to pull it back out of the trenches I have no clue.  But hey, I do think you’ll find it marginally entertaining.  I have updated a couple parts and fixed some spelling errors though.  No, I won’t tell you where.

Every once in a while, something comes along that is just so bad, it’s almost fun.  The Cube is a case in point.  It was so horrid that it’s almost worth watching for the sake of the campiness.  You laugh, you giggle, you make fun of it, and in the end you still feel somwhat fulfilled.  I am sure you know a few movies like that.  Curse of the Komodo, however, is NOT one of them.  In fact, I’d say if it vanished from the earth, the absence of its Vortex of Suck could be displaced only by President Bush.  Or Monica Lewinsky.  Zing!

Pardon if I spoil anything, but the basic premise is this:  people are dumb, dumbness spills over into science experiment gone awry, military tries to cover up, dumbness ensues, people die.  End of story.  Reminds me a lot of a movie called Carnosaur…*shudder*  It is complimented with such gripping dialog as:

Rebecca
What happened?  What was that?

Hanson
Ask your father.

Because, obviously, he would put his daughter in imminent peril without telling her what was going on for some reason.  All good fathers do that these days, right?  That, and leave her with two green around the gills guys that are…well, they’re just there I guess.  Decoration. "Me man, me protect wo-man."  They can fire guns, yes, and they appear to have little ability beyond that.  Such as aiming.  Well, they can make googly eyes at the girl, who is some sort of 14 year old trapped in a 27 year old porn star’s body.  Do we feel dirty about that?  Yes…yes we do.  She was blessed with a bad scriptwriter AND a bad hairstylist it seems (the bad career is totally her own fault):

She never stood a chance…But, let’s move on.  There are more people, because you gotta throw in some stranded criminals to make it spicy (Lost anyone?).  It’s great because they are robbing a casino in Hawaii when we meet them.  They make off with three, maybe four million dollars.  How did they get it?  That’s the great part.  They robbed the one, seventy plus year old, inept guard in the security office, because we all know how undefended those silly casinos are.  You’d think they’d learn to be more careful in today’s day and age.  They could have at least tried something creative, like creating a double of the armored truck and taking off that way.  In Hollywood there’s this crazy little work habit called effort.  Even the worst movies at least try in some regard.  This felt like Saturday morning sitcom planning.  The kind with monkeys at typewriters.

And what’s up with the color?  Last time I checked, that shade of purple wasn’t particularly considered a healthy skintone.  They never heard of filters I guess:

In the case of a water landing, Rebecca’s (Glori-Anne Gilbert) chest can be used as a flotation device FOR THE ENTIRE FUCKING PLANE.  Between her and Tiffany (Melissa Brasselle), two-thirds on the female cast could have floated off the island to safety if needed.  Or just swung their upper torsos back and forth wildly as the lizard approached, effectively pummeling it to death (work with that mental image for a couple minutes).  Plus, you can imagine the music going with the "swimming" scene which was, of course, essential to the movie (and yes, she is taking her top off).  I think an equally fitting title for this movie would have been Attack of the Killer Breast Implants.  Oh, and last time I checked, nipples aren’t supposed to be that low.  Here’s a bit of advice from me to you, never use the coupon at the bargain basement breast implant emporium:

Next, I will present for you "the Compound."  I use quotation marks because, you see, it’s not really so much what you would consider a compound, as you would a house.  You know, the kind you live in.  Keep in mind this is on an island 300 miles from Hawaii.  I’d love to see it after a hurricane.  Plus they keep nice flood lights all around the place, even though they clearly stated the Komodo is "light sensitive."  "Be vewwy, vewwy quiet….I’m huntin’ fo’ a dwagon.  Hehehehehe."  Obviously wrapping the windows in black plastic must be enough though, because they leave all the floods on.  That’s what I’d do too, if I was, you know, suicidal.

All things considered, the CGI wasn’t what I’d call terrible.  It wasn’t the worst I’ve seen, though it wasn’t Hollywood.  In fact, this movie would be right at home (and I think it has been) on the Sci-Fi network.  The work was done by a company called Pyros.  Their website isn’t much to look at, and they haven’t done much that you’ve probably heard of besides some work on Quake III.

I was glad Rebecca never had to handle more than about 5 words in a line.  Personally, I think the hair bleaching was starting to get to her in a big way.  She liked saying everything twice a lot too.  And screaming, she screamed and cried a lot (which is funny, something from her filmography tells me she might have a knack for that).  Truth be told, if you’re a fan of Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon or whatever tha game is, try this one:  Glori-Anne Gilbert to Brittany Andrews.  I know, it’s SO easy.  Gilberts was in Night Vamps (1998) with…ANDREWS.  The only reason I bring it up was because I noticed Andrews has a…long running…uhh…film…career?

And what monster type movie would be complete without…you guessed it!  ZOMBIES!  Apparently the "bio-infection" you can get from the Komodo doesn’t just kill you, but gives you an insatiable hunger for the human flesh.  This sorta came out of absolutely nowhere too.  Shocking!  And it didn’t go anywhere afterwards.  It was just…sort of…there.  At least it died when they shot it.  That’s more than the Komodo.  In fact, I’d go as far as to say these people had no idea how to kill anything.  After the first 500 rounds I’d catch on that the bullets weren’t hurting it.  AT LEAST TRY TO AIM FOR A FRICKIN EYE OR SOMETHING!  Jesus.

Let me see if I covered everything…bad dialogue, gratuitous breasts, terrible acting, stupid hole filled plot, oh, and it was left open for a sequel.  Yeah, I think that’s everything.  2 out of 10.  I have seen worse, but not much, and I can tolerate quite a bit.  18 foot long Komodo dragons doesn’t seem to be one of them.  Wynorski should stick to what he’s good at, which is making…oh, bad films.  Damn.  The last thing I could say (which I don’t think is a compliment, but I guess maybe is) is a quote from their website: 

"Yet another cinema classic from one of our favorite directors, Jim Wynorski, or as Jim likes to call himself in this film, for no apparent reason, Jay Andrews.  Now that I think of it, there is a reason. In fact, what better reason could there be than to hide the fact that he’s Jim Wynorski? This film is rated 3.6 at IMDb, which sounds pretty weak until you realize that such a dismal score actually places it in the top third of Wynorski’s rated films."

Do yourself a favor, go rent Cube 2: Hypercube.  However wasted you feel after watching that, just realize that it could be worse.  Much, much worse.

[As of this reposting, the IMDB score has dropped to 3.0, no longer in the top third of his films, but rather the bottom quarter.]

I Bring the Funny

// May 21st, 2006 // No Comments » // Entertainment, Music, Reviews

Well, a friend of mine pointed out last night she enjoyed reading my blogs because they were funny or entertaining or such.  I forget the actual word used, but being the thesaurus that I am, I was assured it implied  they were enjoyable, if nothing else.  But it got me thinking, that of recent, I’ve become somewhat dry.  At least I think so.  So, this is for you.  Enjoy.

So the concert last night wasn’t bad.  Without going into a full on show review (I don’t do that anymore, SuperSatellite never paid me enough, heh), I will comment briefly.  First, Razorwire Halo.  Well guys….I’ve never heard okay music come from seemingly such little effort.  I mean, if they were much more energetic, they might have fallen asleep on stage.  They weren’t bad, what they did, they did well, they just sounded lazy.  Really it sounded like late gen Manson.  Not that Manson is bad, I loved Antichrist Superstar.  But that’s the thing, I loved Antichrist Superstar.  That album is a decade old.  His new stuff….eh.  And thus Razorwire Halo…eh.  Find a unique sound guys (and gal.  To their credit they did have a hot, however married bass player), and try putting in some real effort and turning down the distortion a little, you’d be surprised.

Muddpuddle Dive wasn’t too bad.  Definately more lively, though that’s not saying much.  Fairly generic Godsmack/Staind type rock.  Worth four sentences at the moment.

The Lonely had a lot more going from them.  I won’t give them much credit in the singing department.  But what they lacked in melodious ramblings, they made up for with enthusiasm.  How this techno rock meshed with an audience that occasionaly let our little 12 year old schoolgirl squeals is beyond me, however.  You’d be listening, nodding to the phat beats yo, and all of the sudden a screeching noise would rise from the front rows like a Backstreet Boy had just snuck up on stage.  I don’t get it.  Then I am reminded that I fear even talking to a girl outside of The Fence without carding them first.  I think the average age outside The Fence is probably fifteen at the oldest.  I felt really bad for the mom in the pink sweater who was clearly only there because she brought a son or daughter to the show.  Kudos for the watching of the kid, but I’m not sure pink ever looked quite so out of place.  Except maybe that one thong I keep in my shelf for the occasional sniffing purposes.  Moving on…

Foxtown is great because they have this big fishpond thingy in the middle.  It’s the most disgusting looking thing in the world.  Camels would look at that water and say “Fuck you, I’d rather just use up my hump and die before drinking that,” then they would spit on your for suggesting such a thing.  Apparently recently they decided to fill it up with toilet bowl coloring, or some similar article, leaving the water blue-green and oily looking.  And the frightening part is that there are actually fish in the water.  Demon fish which have been known to eat spit, cigarettes, paper, severed toes, and anything else they can get into their mouths.  They will fight over these things like pirana, despite a lack of any apparent nutritional value..  Moving on, like any Foxtown regular, I found it to be my duty to find a moment to “feed” the fish.  I spit into the water, I saw them rise to the surface, but they didn’t eat the spit!  The implications are frightening at best.  It is obvious that the combination of nonedible articles, toxic blue water, and human spit has resulted in the fish becoming smarter.  They are making decisions, judging things….plotting.  I for one welcome our new fishy overlords.

The night concluded with dancing at Mooreman’s.  But that, my friends, is a story for another day…But I can say, at least this time, the dancing didn’t end with anyone falling on my penis.