Assemblog: August 30, 2013

Our beloved editor is typing her fingers to the bone, blogging for TIFF 2013, but that doesn’t mean you can’t check out all the great new stuff on Popshifter this week!

The Internet lost its hive-mind this past week when it was announced that Ben Affleck had been cast as Batman in the sequel to Man of Steel, but Paul makes a great case for why it doesn’t matter at all; Melissa gets greasy with Lux Interior; Chelsea gets ethereal with The Copper Gamins; new contributor Tim shines a spotlight on the venerable Pere Ubu; Brad goes into the light with his review of Fire in the Sky; Less Lee provides her recap of FanExpo Canada 2013; and finally, I start a new Waxing Nostalgic series and offer an essay about when movies were movies, not digital presentations.

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Our Lady of Imperfect Presentation: The Church of the Flicker Pics

By Jeffery X Martin

As the circle is drawn, the people feel a small rush of energy run from person to person, the familiar arousal of ceremony. The quarters are called. The fires crackle. The ritual begins.

The Tennessee Theater pushes itself back from the cramped Gay Street sidewalk, buried within itself like a wolf spider in a trap. The pavement changes color from grey to a dark brown, and patrons wander in like unsuspecting grasshoppers, awed by the intricacy of the architecture and the anachronistic ticket booth, separate from the rest of the building, like cleverly placed bait.

Customers wander in, dazed, hypnotized by the almost criminal use of fleur-de-lis. Ushers show them to their assigned spots, plush maroon seats that do not recline and defy the existence of cup-holders. The quarters are close, and smelling the person next to you is not difficult.

Sitting inside the auditorium is like being trapped inside a Fabergé egg. Sequins adorn the curtain that hangs in front of the screen. The ubiquitous fleur-de-lis runs in giant arches around the stage, as do depictions of castles, dancing bears, and crests of long-forgotten families. History lives in the Tennessee like dinosaurs live in Jurassic Park; its existence is undeniable, but remanufactured. A refurbishment project a few years back made everything bright and shiny again. Some grime would be welcome, a slight layer of stickiness on the floors. It’s a theater, not a museum.

Maybe it should be, though, and perhaps all of us gathered here on this Sunday afternoon should be on permanent display. Eighty of us, maybe ninety, here to see The Godfather, Part II, a movie released in 1974. I have this movie on DVD. I tend to think a lot of people do. I have a fairly decent home entertainment system, nothing too high end, but it is manly overkill for my small apartment living room. Also: I can, and do, quote this movie on a regular basis. What’s the sense of leaving my comfortable home, dragging my wife with me, to pay hard-earned money to see a movie already burned into my subconscious?

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Waxing Nostalgic Connecting the Dots: An Introduction

By Jeffery X Martin

I was born in 1969. When we imagine 1969 now, through the shattered lens of revisionist history, we think of hippies and acid and the overuse of the word “quagmire” when describing the Vietnam War. I look at things through a pop culture filter, always, so it isn’t really a surprise that I would, one drunken night, check the charts to see what the number one song was the week I was born. It had to be something cool, with lots of flanging and sitar and lyrics about flowers.

The number one song the week I was born was “Love Theme from Romeo and Juliet” by Henry Mancini.

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Waxing Nostalgic Cover Albums: Replicants, Replicants

By Jeffery X Martin

Take the guys from space-rock band Failure, Tool’s first bassist, and a kick-ass keyboardist and set them to deconstructing and rebuilding some of the finest rock songs of the 1970s and 1980s. The result is the band (and their eponymous 1995 release), Replicants.

It’s, well, a little weird. Therefore, I love it.

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In Defense Of: The Wicker Man (2006)

By Jeffery X Martin

Joyous news coming out of England . . . no, not the Royal Baby. We’ll finally be getting a definitive final cut of Robin Hardy’s classic thriller, The Wicker Man, this fall. This is the best Samhain treat fans of the Man could have ever hoped for. Restored footage, digital remastering, the whole nine yards. Hopefully, once the disc hits North American shores, the film will garner a new following. When most Americans think of The Wicker Man, their first thought is the Nicolas Cage movie. Fans of the original film bristle at this, especially because the remake was so thoroughly mocked and maligned, as if the presence of Nicolas Cage gives the entire story a bad name.

I implore you to reconsider.

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Waxing Nostalgic Cover Albums: Bulletboys, Rocked & Ripped

By Jeffery X Martin

I don’t know what a Bulletboy is. I might have heard one of their songs late at night while driving. Someone might have mentioned the name at a bar. That seems right, because I was more than likely drunk. I don’t remember things so well when I’m drunk.

Here’s the funny thing.

Now that I’ve listened to a cover album by Bulletboys called, aggressively enough, Rocked & Ripped, I have to go back and listen to their entire catalog. If Bulletboys is as wacky, bluesy, and just flat-out good as this record is, I have some catching up to do.

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Waxing Nostalgic Cover Albums: Powerman 5000, Copies, Clones & Replicants

By Jeffery X Martin

When you die and go to hell, and Satan forces you and the other souls doomed to eternal torment into an aerobics class, the only album your sadistic demon instructor will ever play will be Powerman 5000’s cover album, Copies, Clones & Replicants. You will scream in agony and beg for relief. It will not come.

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Waxing Nostalgic Cover Albums: Duran Duran, Thank You

By Jeffery X Martin

Make no mistake: I have always loved Duran Duran. I have no problem admitting this. I had the John Taylor rubber bracelets, the uncensored version of “The Chauffeur” on VHS, the whole nine yards. Their last studio album, All You Need is Now, is criminally underrated. I say this just so you understand that I have no axe to grind. I’m not out to pick on some New Romantics, looking for that TV sound.

But good gods, folks. This album is a constant.

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Waxing Nostalgic Cover Albums: Tesla, Real to Reel

By Jeffery X Martin

Imagine going back in time to 1975. You’re at a rock and roll club on the biker side of town. Your dad is young; his polyester shirt is unbuttoned down to his navel. His gold chains shine like treasure amidst the jungle rope vines of chest hair he proudly displays. His straw cowboy hat encases his skull like a crown. He pounds down a Schaefer in this bar, filled with Tareyton smokers who would rather fight than switch. There’s an underlying aroma of the sweet leaf. You sit down at his table. He leans in and speaks to you.

“The band’s about to start, kid,” he says. “I’ve been into these guys for a while.” He raises his hand and almost immediately, a blond in a halter top is pouring a beer into your proper Pilsner glass. Feedback begins to bleed from the slightly raised stage. The musicians begin to tune their instruments. The drummer taps his snare cautiously and pounds out a quick bass rhythm.

“I bet they start with some Deep Purple,” your dad says. He takes a surreptitious bump of coke and waits for the band to get going.

The singer approaches the microphone. “Good evening, everyone,” he says, “we’re Tesla, and this is ‘Space Truckin’.'” Your dad nods knowingly. Tesla? What the hell is Tesla doing here?

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Waxing Nostalgic Cover Albums: Styx, Big Bang Theory

By Jeffery X Martin

In retrospect, there weren’t too many corporate pop/rock bands quite as ballsy as Styx. They were great proponents of the concept album, managing to score hit after hit with singles that, taken out of their album’s context, gave no clue to the listener of what they were really about. While I was slow dancing with yet another girl who wouldn’t let me touch her butt to “The Best of Times” in Tracy White’s basement during another hormonally-interminable eighth grade party, I had no idea I was listening to a song about America, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of the Seventies and rushing headfirst into the Eighties. I just knew I was staying a virgin for another long weekend.

Styx’s biggest hits tended to be the namby-pamby Dennis DeYoung ballads. The rocking songs like “Heavy Metal Poisoning” never had quite the same popularity. It’s interesting, then, that for their covers album, Big Bang Theory, the band reaches out for the rockiest rock they can rock your rocks to. Even more interesting is how well it works.

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