By Christian Lipski
I will admit that the novelty of an all-female metal band was the initial attraction. Metal was so uniquely associated with the posturing womanizer that it was a great advantage to have a band that inverted the standard. But they could honestly play and more specifically, they could honestly play the kind of music I liked.
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By Emily Carney
When I was a kid growing up in the 1980s, American public broadcasting stations (PBS) played episodes of the English cult TV series Doctor Who. Personally, as a young child I couldn’t really get into the show; I thought the episodes of Monty Python’s Flying Circus were much funnier, and the guys on that show seemed less freakishly scary than the star of DW, Tom Baker. (Of course, I ask myself now why my parents let me watch Monty Python at age 4. That show could get a bit adult-oriented to say the very least). As a child I found Baker less engaging than other TV characters, and more frightening and unusual than anything. Peter Davison (the next Doctor after Tom Baker) was far more “cuddly” and seemed more tailored to smaller children with his wan, handsome smile and cricket clothes.
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By Ann Clarke
I like trashy films. I probably watch more trash films as opposed to movies with actual integrity. Not to say I don’t enjoy some Oscar-worthy entertainment, but I find it much more intriguing to watch the stuff that has no redeeming quality (at face value, anyway).
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By Jesse Roth
Looking back on my movie-viewing history, I can think of few films that have really bothered me. Most of the time, unless an animal dies or there is excessive torture, I won’t even flinch. Murder and cruelty can pass before my eyes and be acknowledged the same way as a car chase or moment of truly exceptional dialogue between two characters: interesting, but certainly nothing that impacts me on a deep, emotional level.
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By Christian Lipski
I remember buying this CD in college, in a love/hate relationship with Bon Jovi. On the one hand, they were so commercial and inoffensive and harmless (and barely glam metal). On the other, the songs on New Jersey were freakin’ flawless. My friends and I did the “ironic” thing, where we’d like the songs because they were cheesy, but deep down inside (at least for me), there was a real love for them. They’re fun fun songs, and epitomize the arena rock style.
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With Cindy Chinn of the Center of Creativity
Intro by Less Lee Moore
The Chester Haunted School in Chester, NE is not your run-of-the-mill haunted house. Like radio shows from the 1950s, it utilizes narration to scare its listeners, but also adds a modern touch: an ingenious light show which depicts the action. Instead of monsters jumping out at you, however, your imagination is allowed to run wild with what you think you see: Farley Wacken, the evil headmaster, roaming the halls with his deadly yardstick.
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By Less Lee Moore
In the July/August 2008 issue of Popshifter, I attempted to answer the question, “What was the first synthop song?”
Having arrived back at the old “Popcorn vs. Chicory Tip” quandary once again, I figured I’d better find out more about both.
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By Less Lee Moore
“He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee.”
Frederick Nietzsche, Beyond Good & Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future
By Christian Lipski
I never actually owned this album until this year, but I’ve listened to it quite a few times. In the summer of 1988 my brother and I had jobs at the same company, so he would come pick me up at my apartment in Lake Merritt (Oakland) and we’d carpool. Since it was his car, it was his music, which was fine, as I liked hearing what he was listening to. That summer it was usually So Far, So Good. . . So What! at peak volume as we smoked and drove to work.
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The Black Dahlia was the first James Ellroy novel I read and I loved it. I had become a fan of the hardboiled detective fiction genre after being introduced to the pulp novels of Jim Thompson in a Film Noir class. Then, seeking more books in that vein, I soon devoured all the books of Raymond Chandler and James M. Cain. Since Thompson, Chandler, and Cain were all deceased, I was thrilled that Ellroy was still alive and kicking.
But it was more than that.