"Well, There Was This Movie I Seen One Time..."

Last month, I had a few ideas for blogs relating to Bob Dylan’s 70th birthday. I was only able to write one of them in time, so here is the first of two others I had planned.

Anyway, whether you’re a Dylan fan or just curious, here’s a list of the movies you must see and those you should be glad I saw for you.

Dont Look Back. D. A. Pennebaker’s documentary of Dylan’s 1965 tour of England. One of the classics of the direct cinema movement and a seminal rockumentary, Dont Look Back captures Dylan on the cusp of transitioning from folkie to rocker.

Festival! Dylan is one of many performers in this documentary on the Newport Folk Festival. Here you can see him from his earliest days as a folk singer straight up through his infamous electric set, and there are performances of his songs by the likes of Joan Baez, Johnny Cash, and Peter, Paul and Mary as well.

Eat the Document. Pennebaker shot this film of Dylan’s embattled 1966 world tour which combines documentary footage with some staged scenes. Then Dylan got ahold of it and reedited it himself. It was shown once on a New York television station, and has since existed as a bootleg film.

Concert for Bangladesh. Dylan was the surprise guest at George Harrison’s star-studded benefit concerts for flood and famine relief in Bangladesh. And the best part is, the proceeds of the film—and the DVD release—of this great concert still go to UNICEF.

Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. Dylan made his proper acting debut in this Peckinpaw western, and, it’s, uh, well, a good thing he didn’t quit his day job. But, on the other hand, he contributed several songs to the soundtrack, including “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.”

Renaldo and Clara. The film of the 1975 Rolling Thunder Review tour is part concert film, part art film exploring the nature of identity, and part documentary on wrongfully imprisoned boxer Rubin “Hurricane” Carter—all directed by Dylan himself. As a part of Dylan’s overall artistic career, it’s interesting. As a movie, it’s… got great concert footage. Panned horribly on it’s initial release, the full four-hour version of the film has only aired a few times on European TV since then, but luckily for us, someone set their VCR to tape it. A few scenes have been officially released as a bonus DVD with The Bootleg Series Vol. 5: Bob Dylan 1975, The Rolling Thunder Review.

The Last Waltz. Around the same time, Dylan played with The Band for their farewell concert which was directed by Martin Scorsese. (Yes, the concert and the film.) An amazing film with great performances all around, but the chemistry between Dylan and The Band is its highlight.

Hearts of Fire. Dylan is one of the many classic rock stars who seemed lost in the 80s. Among his WTF? moments in that decade is taking a role in this truly awful take on A Star Is Born. The only redeeming quality is that everyone is so bad—even Rupert Everette—Dylan's acting doesn’t actually seem as unbelievably awful as it usually does.

Wonder Boys. Dylan doesn’t actually appear in this film about a writing professor failing to finish his second novel, but a lot of his songs are on the sound track. Written specifically for the film, “Things Have Changed” won him an Oscar.

Masked and Anonymous. Dylan once again tried to make a film himself—thankfully, this time, directed by someone else. With so many stars in the cast—John Goodman, Jessica Lang, Luke Wilson, etc.—it was either going to be a colossal failure or a big hit. And it was neither, really. Once again receiving poor reviews because it’s “arty,” Masked is nevertheless more comprehensible than Renaldo and Clara, especially if you’ve been paying attention to certain themes in Dylan’s recent work.

No Direction Home. Martin Scorsese was commissioned to take a whole bunch of footage Dylan had—including exclusive interviews with himself—and make a documentary for PBS’s American Masters Series. However, it is anything but boring. At three and a half hours long, it is a fascinating and insightful look at Dylan’s career up to his 1966 motorcycle accident.

Factory Girl. Dylan makes no appearance in this film about Edie Sedgwick and her relationships with Andy Warhol and an unnamed folk singer who totally isn’t supposed to be Bob Dylan even though he looks like him, sounds like him, and acts like him. What reason could he possibly have had threaten to sue the production? (Maybe it being so horribly inaccurate that Lou Reed refused to license any of his songs has something to do with it?) It’s bad, but not quite as bad as the critical reaction made it seem. I read the original script. It could have been worse.

Bob Dylan 1965 Revisited. Pennebaker opened up his vault to restore Dont Look Back, found hours of great unused material, and edited it into a new documentary. Nowhere near as influential as the original film, but it still provides an interesting glimpse into Dylan's transitional state, as well as providing more musical performances.

The Other Side of the Mirror. All of Murray Lerner’s footage of Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival are in this DVD comprised of outtakes from Festival! Since the footage is just pieced together in chronological order, you get the feeling it would have made a better bonus disc accompanying the original film like Pennebaker’s 1965 Revisited, but it is pretty cool to get a near-complete version of Dylan’s 1965 electric set.

I’m Not There. Todd Haynes's biopic—if you could call it that—of Dylan has him played by six different actors of different ages, races, and genders. A much more successful exploration of identity than Renaldo and Clara, I’m Not There has a great soundtrack full of covers and Dylan originals.

The Venture Brothers Funniest Moments

The Venture Brothers is one of the funniest shows on TV right now and the best Adult Swim has to offer. Later this summer they're showing a 15 minute special, but here are three of the funniest episodes from each of their four seasons so far:

“Ghosts of the Sargasso.” While searching for the wreck of his father’s experimental space ship, Doctor Venture leaves Hank and Dean at the mercy of fake pirates who get haunted by the ghost of Major Tom, whom Doc has accidentally awakened.
Epically hilarious moment: The cold open, which acts out “Space Oddity” using lyrics from that song and “Ashes to Ashes.” Major Tom: “Tell my wife I love her very much—“ Jonas Venture: “She knows!”

“Tag Sale—You’re It.” Things get pretty rough when super-science and arch villainy meet at Doctor Venture’s yard sale.
Epically hilarious moment: Henchman 21 uses the Monarch’s money to buy a real working light saber and tries to use it on Brock Samson. Uh-oh….

“Return to Spider-Skull Island.” The boys, thinking that their father is having a baby, run away from home. But it turns out they’ve just got a new uncle, as Doctor Venture’s twin brother Jonas, Jr. whom he absorbed in the womb decides it’s time to come out and take what is rightfully his. Meanwhile Henchmen 21 and 24 cross items off the imprisoned Monarch’s to-do list—with deadly consequences.
Epically hilarious moment: What could possibly top the boys’ ignorance of basic biology and homages to Rocky Horror and Easy Rider? The Monarch’s “scared straight” prison speech, that’s what.

“Powerless in the Face of Death.” As the Monarch plans his escape from prison, Dr. Orpheus discovers why he cannot find the boy’s souls in the afterlife: They are clones.
Epically hilarious moment: Death scene montage.

“Escape to the House of Mummies Part II.” With Brock and the boys in the clutches of the evil Osiris cult, Doctor Venture helps them… by getting into a science versus magic shrinking contest with Dr. Orpheus.
Epically hilarious moment: Doc, Billy Quizboy, and Pete White make “guilty pleasure” lists. Billy misunderstands the question.

“Showdown at Cremation Creek (Part 1 and 2).” The Venture family gets roped into attending the Monarch’s wedding to Dr. Girlfriend. Phantom Limb crashes the ceremony and kidnaps Dr. Girlfriend as part of his ploy to bring down The Sovereign (a.k.a. David Bowie), so Brock and Hank help him get her back as Dean has a Neverending Story-inspired freak-out.
Epically hilarious moment: Where to begin? The Star Wars references? Bowie? How about Hank’s little disguise as “how you say, Russian Guyovitch?”

“Shadowman 9: In the Cradle of Destiny.” While the Guild of Calamitous Intent holds a hearing to see if the Monarch was arching Doctor Venture without permission, 21 and 24 get a little help dealing with Dr. Mrs. The Monarch’s Murderous Moppets.
Epically hilarious moment: Phantom Limb reveals his true self to Dr. Girlfriend. “You eviled your legs?”

“The Invisible Hand of Fate.” After hitting his head in the toilette, Billy finally remembers how lost his hand.
Epically hilarious moment: The Nozzle.

“The Buddy System.” Doctor Venture opens up the compound as a day camp for boy adventurers. Naturally, things don’t quite go to plan.
Epically hilarious moment: Brock asks the disguised Moppets to beat up annoying teen Dermot for him, and they get a little carried away. “F—ing knife.”

“Handsome Ransom.” Hank, angry at his father, runs off with Captain Sunshine when the Monarch’s ransom plan goes awry.
Epically hilarious moment: Every single time Captain Sunshine gets just a little too creepy.

“Everybody Comes to Hank’s.” While Dean’s off in New York for his internship, Doc orders Hank to get a job. So he opens his own detective agency and investigates the mystery of Dermot’s real father.
Epically hilarious moment: The whole thing’s a brilliant film noir parody, but you gotta love a low-speed cart chase.

“Operation: P.R.O.M.” As Sphinx gets ready to hand Monstroso over to the O.S.I., the boys have their homeschool prom. Will Dean win Triana back? Will Hunter Gathers find the mole? Will 21 find out who killed 24? Will anyone get laid?
Epically hilarious moment: A Rusty Venture.

50 Favorite Classic Rock Albums, Part 3

50-48, 47-44

43. Synchronicity, The Police, 1983
If you, as a band, are on the brink of imploding, then you’d better go out with a masterpiece. And that’s exactly what The Police did with their 1983 release Synchronicity. Afterward, the band broke up (for a while) and Sting went on save the rain forest. But don’t let that fool you into thinking that Synchronicity is merely an example of lightweight 80s fluff pop. The lyrics display an interest in human realities—just think of the meaning of the title—and psychologies (listen to the incredibly Oedipal “Mother”), and the production brings The Police’s Caribbean-tinged punk to its full sonic potential and beyond. The album will always be remembered for the stalker-romance “Every Breath You Take,” which, in addition to being ripped off—uh, I mean, sampled by Puff Daddy for his tribute to Biggie Smalls, has one of the most iconic music videos of all time. Those black and white (or the rarely seen tricolor) images of Sting, Andy Summer, and Stewart Copeland are what come to mind when most people think of The Police. Other notable songs include, “King of Pain,” “Wrapped Around Your Finger,” “Murder by Numbers,” and “Synchronicity II.”

42. Exile on Main St., The Rolling Stones, 1972
Exile on Main St. is the the most quintessentially Rolling Stones of all Rolling Stones albums. Though—odd for a double album—only a handful of songs stand out strongly on their own, every single one is clearly identifiable as the Stones. Exile, perhaps, is the darling of music critics because it is precisely what we hear in our heads when we think of a typical Rolling Stones song. All the usual influences are present—rock ’n’ roll, rhythm and blues, delta blues, country, even a little gospel—yet here they are more integrated than on other albums. For example, “Sweet Virginia” transcends being the album’s country songs by virtue of its backing horns, unlike “Country Honk” or “Faraway Eyes” which remain truer to the genre. Thus, Exile on Main St., in the way it presents a unified sound throughout, just might be the most cohesive album the Rolling Stones have ever produced. Plus it’s an incredibly well-sequenced album. Among side openers are “Sweet Virginia,” “All Down the Line,” and the Richards-sung “Happy.” “Tumbling Dice,” “Let It Loose,” and “Loving Cup” all finish sides. The sides start strong and end strong. Exile on Main St.’s big surprise, though, is Side 4’s “Shine a Light,” which, up there with Dylan’s “Forever Young,” is one of rock’s great benedictions. It really sounds like it should be the album’s conclusions, but instead we get “Soul Survivor” as an encore.

41. Imagine, John Lennon, 1971
We like to remember John Lennon in his solo years as a stalwart activist for peace. While his political involvement is certainly nothing to be forgotten, I think sometimes we forget what an acerbic wit he had in our efforts to beatify him. In 1971 when Imagine was released, he was in the middle of the famous Lennon-McCartney feud, in which the former songwriting partners exchanged blows via their albums, here notably on “How Do You Sleep?” in which he—no kidding—calls Paul a pretty-boy. But one of the great things about Lennon was that he knew he could be a jerk—as he explains on the tender “Jealous Guy.” Imagine strikes a nice balance between the personal and the political. As to the latter, there’s the anti-war “I Don’t Wanna Be a Soldier Mama I Don’t Wanna Die” and the politically disillusioned “Gimme Some Truth.” But there are also plenty of songs written to and about his wife, including the previously mentioned “Jealous Guy” and the joyous “Oh Yoko!” Of course, you can’t talk about Imagine without mentioning the title track. “Imagine” is one of the greatest songs ever written, and has become an anthem for world peace. With little instrumentation other than its simple piano rhythms, it asks us not to take up picket signs or overthrow the government, but merely to picture a better world. Lennon understood that, in order for change to occur, people first have to believe that things can be different. And that is why “Imagine” remains such a powerful song these 40 years later.

40. Station to Station, David Bowie, 1976
At just six songs, Station to Station is a weird little album. Recorded during the darkest days of Bowie’s cocaine addiction, it comes from and takes the listener to very strange places. The album starts with what sounds like a train in motion and soon moves on to some ominous—though funky—chords. It is not until over three minutes later that we get lyrics: “The return of the Thin White Duke/Throwing darts in lovers’ eyes.” We don’t know exactly who this mysterious Duke is, but it’s clear he’s into some dark shit and probably up to no good. Don’t let that fool you, though, into thinking the album is a work of coke-fueled paranoia. “Station to Station” switches to a literally more upbeat tone mid-way through. “It’s not the side effects of the cocaine,” Bowie sings, “I’m thinking that it must be love.” The rest of Station to Station remains fairly positive, though the darkness is always there, lurking at the edges. Following the title track is the album’s big hit “Golden Years,” which, as close to a love song as Bowie ever gets, was supposedly written for his then-wife Angie—or so she says—and “Word on a Wing,” a prayer that, though offered out of desperation, still feels hopeful. Side 2 opens with the playful “TVC 15” which Bowie once described as about a girl in love with her television set, and is thought to have been inspired by his involvement in The Man Who Fell to Earth. Next is the funky “Stay,” which also offers a plea, this time a lover’s more earthly concerns. Finally, the album ends with a cover of “Wild Is the Wind.” Again—another plea, and yet the understated vocals lend the song a gentleness that make it a perfect conclusion to the otherwise strange ride that is Station to Station.

Graphic Novels and the Tradition of Quality

As an aspiring comic book writer, I often browse the graphic novel section of book stores. In the last five or so years, as interest in graphic novels has increased, these sections have increased from one case at the end of the science fiction row to whole walls or more. Now for those of you still wondering, the difference between a graphic novel and a comic book is merely that, instead of being printed on glossy magazine paper, the former is printed on regular paper and bound like a paperback book. Now, I don’t know about you, but when I first heard the term “graphic novel” I pictured a whole book where the story was told in images. There are a few graphic novels out there that have originally appeared in this format, but most of them have first been published as comic books, then later bound in this way once the story is finished. Think of it as closer in format to the Victorian "Novel in Three Volumes" rather than the modern novel. To add to your confusion, the trade editions of comic books—when story arcs or a set number of a continuing comics series are bound and published—are usually displayed in book stores and some comic shops in the graphic novel section.

Of course, “graphic novel” holds another connotation as well. A comic book, well, that’s something you read as a kid. They had superheroes and monsters and generally contained nothing for the intellectual pallet of an adult. A graphic novel, now, that’s sophisticated. It’s Fitzgerald with pictures. In a society which dismisses popular culture as a lower form, graphic storytelling as such can be considered an art. In short, the term “graphic novel” is pretentious.

I’m not entirely against a little pretension now and again. Heck, why not push the boundaries of the visual narrative to see what it can do? There’s nothing wrong with getting a little arty and experimental in any medium. But why must we sacrifice the comic book to do so? We don’t call Agatha Christie’s novels something else just because they’re not as complex as Henry James. So why should comic books’ appeal to a popular audience keep them from being considered art?

Here’s something else: read the titles of any graphic novel section, and you will see a lot of familiar names. Discounting the superhero comics for now—we all know Superman and the X-Men—and you’ll see that a lot of TV shows and movie franchises, from Star Wars to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, use comic books to continue their adventures. This is nothing new—it dates back at least to the first Doctor Who comics of the 1960s if not before—and has done a lot to increase their fan bases and maintain interest in the original product. But keep looking, and you’ll find a lot of titles that are adaptation of novels, movies, and--yes--even a Neil Young album.

I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing. A large part of me suspect that this is just publishers’ attempts to cash in on the latest craze, hoping that, for example, people who love Neil Gaiman will buy the graphic novel version of Neverwhere, never mind that he’s a great comics writer and yet didn’t do the adaptation himself. But, I suppose, as is often said of movie versions of things, that people who would not otherwise read the book or see the movie might change their minds once they’ve read the graphic novel. I would like to believe this is true, though I’ve never come across a study that suggests it is so. I do, however, think that people who might otherwise not read comic books because of the assumption that they are for kids and middle-aged men who still live with their mothers would be attracted to graphic novels if they saw a title like Pride and Prejudice on the shelf.

And that’s troubling. In the 1950s, François Truffaut criticized contemporary French cinema for relying on a “tradition of quality.” No, he didn’t think that films should be badly made, rather that they were too reliant on the already proven art of literary texts to legitimize themselves. For Truffaut, these literary adaptations were trying too hard to be novels instead of being films. And this is what worries me about trying to make the graphic novel version of everything. In trying to lure readers into accepting the graphic novel as a legitimate art form by trying to convince them that they’re just like the novels or movies, we run the risk of losing what makes a comic book a comic book.

A Selective Guide to Bowie's Movies

Although I wrote about David Bowie as an actor before back in the old “British Actor of the Month” series (maybe I should bring that back one of these days), I thought a more thorough guide to his appearances at the movies was needed. Now, he’s been in a lot of movies, so these are only the ones I can recommend to you. Or, as the case may be, strongly recommend that you don’t see. (And they’re features only. No Sponge Bob, no Jazzin’ for Blue Jean. The latter I strongly recommend.)

 

Recommendations

The Man Who Fell to Earth. In Bowie’s first ever major film role, he plays an alien who’s come to Earth on a rescue mission but who quickly gets taken advantage of and turned into a drunk. Uh… maybe? It’s very arty, so you’re never quite sure what’s really going on. Infamous for its full frontal alien scene, it's really one of the classics of 70s sci-fi. And if you don’t get it, at least the cinematography’s nice. 

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence. No, Bowie isn’t Mr. Lawrence. (That’s Tom Conti.) Here he plays a paratrooper causing trouble in a prison camp who catches the attention of the Japanese camp leader. The director claims the attraction between the two isn’t supposed to be gay. Whatever. It’s a very interesting contemplation of two very different cultures in conflict. Many fans and critics agree that this is the best performance of Bowie’s film career. 

Labyrinth. Hold it—stop rolling your eyes. Yes, I know this is a kid’s movie. Yes, I know they aren’t exactly the best songs he’s ever written. Yes, I know how tight those pants are—I’m not blind, you know. But, even though its key demographic is twelve-year-old girls, Labyrinth is far more than a kid’s movie. It’s fun and imaginative (Jim Henson directed, after all), has some complex psychological stuff going on, and is even the teensiest bit empowering. It makes quite a nice package… Ok, wrong choice of words there. 

Basquiat. In this biopic, Bowie plays Andy Warhol, who, late in his life, collaborated with Jean-Michel Basquiat. It’s a good indie film about an interesting artist, and Bowie is great as Warhol, even though, other than the authentic wig, he doesn’t look much like him, nor is he doing an impression per se. I once had a professor who is one of the premier Warhol scholars, and he said this is his favorite on-screen version of the artist. 

Zoolander. Bowie has a cameo as himself to judge a walk-off between two male models. He’s in it for less than 5 minutes, but this is perhaps the most hilarious scene in a movie full of hilarious scenes. 

The Prestige. In this film about competing magicians, Bowie plays inventor Nikola Tesla, who, in his day, was the coolest person around and way ahead of his time. Sound familiar? And given that Tesla is rumored to have traveled back from the future, who’s to say they’re not the same person? Anyway, it’s a pretty good movie with a big twist ending and “a lot” of Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman. 

Velvet Goldmine. Not exactly a Bowie movie—especially since he bashed the script and refused to allow any of his songs to be used in it. Todd Haynes uses this Citizen Kane-like story about a glam rocker who is similar to but in no way supposed to be David Bowie *wink, wink* to examine identity and biography and to pay loving tribute to the 70s. Despite the lack of actual Bowie, it’s got a great soundtrack and is a fun, glittery fantasy. A must for Ewan McGreggor fans.

 

Anti-Recommendations

The Hunger. Bowie and vampires! Yay—hold that thought. In the movie’s first act, Bowie is very compelling as an immortal who finds himself aging… very quickly. After that, it’s a postmodern mess. But, for some reason, goths really seem to like this movie. So before you watch, ask yourself just how much the world doesn’t seem to understand your inner torment. 

  Absolute Beginners. Or, as I like to call it, Absolute, uh, Something Else*. Julien Temple of Sex Pistols documentary fame directed this musical tribute to the swinging sixties and racial tension. But if you think that sounds bad… you’re right. Bowie, in addition to writing the title song—which is the only good thing this movie’s got going for it—has a small part as an advertising exec, but gets upstaged by Ray Davies. 

The Linguini Incident. Bowie plays the male lead opposite Rosanna Arquette in this extremely quirky romantic comedy. It’s not awful, but it is pretty weird. And it has a brief though amusing cameo from Iman. Kind of hard to find, and you might not want to make the effort. 

Arthur and the Invisibles. Bowie does a fine job voicing the villain in this half-animated children’s adventure, but the CGI characters look weird, and the premise is a little thin. I didn’t think it was that believable as a fantasy, and, anyway, it leaves too much to be answered in the sequels, which have never been released in the US. (Incidentally, Lou Reed takes over for Bowie in those two movies, and Iggy Pop voices his son. Very clever, M. Besson.) 

The Last Temptation of Christ. Though perhaps not as scandalous as when it was first released, this film is still controversial. Kind of interesting, though, honestly, Scorsese has made a lot of better films. Bowie has an unremarkable cameo as Pontius Pilot that leaves you wishing you were watching Jesus Christ Superstar.

 

Recommended Documentaries

Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. A documentary that captures Bowie’s final concert as Ziggy. The cinema verite (yes, it’s supposed to look that cheap) style is perfect for capturing the raw sexual energy of the performance. It’s very simply shot, but its one of my favorite concert films because it lets the event occur with very little interference. 

Cracked Actor. This BBC TV documentary followed Bowie around during his Diamond Dogs tour in the mid 70s. Two interesting things about this one: First of all, it contains pretty much the only footage of that tour, which was the first major tour by a rock star to use elaborate sets and staging. Second, off stage it captures Bowie at his coked-up best. For some reason, the BBC refuses to give this doc an official release, so YouTube is your friend. 

Serious Moonlight. A direct-to-video concert film of the Asian leg of Bowie’s tour supporting Let’s Dance. Granted, a lot of people think he sold out on that record, but the band here is kick-ass, and they do justice to his late 70s stuff. Sure, the concert production was a little overblown, but it’s still good music. 

Ricochet. Another direct-to-video documentary, this one uses Bowie’s Serious Moonlight tour to examine the role of Western pop culture on the East. Concert footage is mixed in with Bowie driving around Singapore and some staged stuff about Chinese teens trying to score tickets. It’s kind of intellectual, but it’s included on the same DVD as Serious Moonlight, so you might as well give it a go. 

A Reality Tour. This direct-to-DVD concert film captures performances from Bowie’s last tour. At well-over two hours it has some of the finest performances of Bowie’s later career. The sheer energy of the show is amazing considering he was over 50 at the time and months away from a heart attack. There will most likely be no more new Bowie concerts to film, but what a high note to go out on. *That begins with "s," ends with "t," and has an "h" and an "i" somewhere in the middle.

Five Random Things I Dislike

I'm too busy enjoying WDRV's Album Side Thursday to put any serious effort into blogging today, so here's a follow-up to Monday's similarly brainless activity.

• Raw tomatoes. If you stew them, puree them, turn them into salsa, or cook them in any other way, then I'm fine. But raw, they are nasty, squishy, soggy, evil fruit pretending to be a vegetable.
  
• Cooking with the pan handles inward. It annoys me to no end, because if you brown, saute, or mix in something, you need to grip the handle to do it right. I know a legion of mommy bloggers is now thinking, "But that's dangerous!" because kids can reach up and dump hot Hamburger Helper on their heads. Yeah, and they can also get into the knife block while you're struggling to mix in that flavor packet with one hand. The point is you always need to be vigilant of what kids/pets are doing in the kitchen no matter where your stupid handles are. If you're so worried, then move the handles in when you're not gripping them. And you don't need to keep doing it once your kids are old enough to know not to do something stupid like that.
• That new opening for Doctor Who that's apparently just for the American audience. I know there suddenly has been a lot more interest in it starting this season, but do we really need to be told the premise every time we watch? I mean, we may be a former colony, but I think we can follow a basic TV narrative from week to week. And for those of us who have been watching since 2006--let alone the 70s!--it's not just condescending, it's insulting.
• Cover songs on YouTube. You know the kind. Some guy films himself playing a Dylan song or something in his bedroom and puts the video up on YouTube. In theory I'm not opposed to this. You want to share your artistic expression with the world? Fine, be my guest. But there's so many of them! It's really annoying when you're searching for the original version of a song. Seriously, the other day I was searching for a particular U2 song--which I know has an official video that the record company has online--and the first few search pages were all cover songs and fan vids. YouTube needs to figure out how to make the search function precise enough to filter these out.
  
• Bad DVD commentary. No, I don't mean the kind where the commentators end up having their own conversation that has nothing to do with the actual film you're watching. I actually quite enjoy those. There are two types of commentary I don't like. The first is when the commentators get so wrapped up in the film that they forget to talk about it. Now, when it's a really great film, I can kind of understand being speechless for parts of it, but, all too often, the commentators haven't actually seen it for awhile, and so, not remembering much, they just watch it. The second type I don't like is when none of the commentators were in the same room together. For one thing, since it has to be edited together later, it totally kills any spontaneity. For another, I don't want to hear someone talking about the film, I want to hear a conversation among people to whom this film means something.
  

50 Favorite Classic Rock Albums, Part 2

50-48

47. Led Zeppelin, 1969
By the late 1960s, Jimmy Page found himself the sole remaining member of The Yardbirds. As he roped in Robert Plant, John Paul Jones, and John Bonham to fill out the band, Keith Moon famously quipped that the move would go over “like a led zeppelin.” The band would rename themselves in light of this, and later in the 70s, it would take on an ironic meaning, for no band soared higher to rock superstardom than Led Zeppelin, so it’s hard to believe anyone ever doubted their success. Yet Led Zeppelin sounds like nothing else released in 1969. Sure, there were plenty of other blues-based bands in Britain and on the West Coast. And Jimi Hendrix was performing feats on the guitar even Page couldn’t match. But no one had thought to combine the blues rock sound with the prowess of a guitar god before. Zep’s self-titled debut was most heavily seeped in their blues roots. The album is rife with blues riffs and idioms. In fact, Led Zeppelin has stirred up a small amount of controversy since they borrow heavily—if not out-right steal—from the old bluesmen. But what really sets Led Zeppelin apart from its contemporaries is that it’s just so much heavier. The dark guitar riff on “Dazed and Confused” and the frenzy of “Communication Breakdown” signal troubled times ahead in the post-Altamont world. Other well-known songs are "Good Times Bad Times" and “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You.” “You Shook Me” provides a clear example of their blues influence while “Your Time Is Gonna Come” hints at sounds the band would later pursue.

46. Transformer, Lou Reed, 1972
Rock and Roll Poet Laureate of New York City. I don’t know if anyone else refers to Lou Reed as such, but that really ought to be the guy’s official title. No other artist captures the feel of the Big Apple—Uptown, Downtown, Midtown, the Outer Boroughs—quite so well. New York is his city, and each song is, in its own way, a celebration of the people who live there. Transformer came out after Reed had left the Velvet Underground and his solo career wasn’t doing so well. David Bowie, who often cites Reed as one of the biggest influences on his musical career, and Mick Ronson stepped in to produce this album. As such, Transformer and Reed himself often get lumped in with the rest of the early 70s glam rockers—ironic, really, since the VU’s artistic experimentation played a huge role in shaping the sound and image of glam. The songs on Transformer deal with Reed’s personal demons, but at the same time, they give the listener a host of those great New York characters Reed is so famous for creating. The album is best known for “Walk on the Wild Side,” which at the time was its biggest hit and continues to receive airplay on classic rock stations, and for “Perfect Day,” which has received a lot of attention in recent years, notably on the Trainspotting soundtrack and as a start-studded cover promoting the BBC. Other notable songs include the upbeat “Hangin’ ‘Round” and “Satellite of Love,” which features prominently on the Velvet Goldmine soundtrack.

45. Beggar’s Banquet, The Rolling Stones, 1968
Beggar’s Banquet was the last full album The Rolling Stones would ever record with Brian Jones before his death in 1969. It would’ve been his last anyway because Jones had quit or been fired, depending on who you ask, over creative differences. Jones had been largely responsible for taking the band in a psychedelic direction on their last few albums. The experiment hadn’t been much of a success, and Mick, Keith, Charlie, and Bill wanted to get back to doing what they do best. And so on Beggar’s Banquet the Stones return to rhythm and blues, albeit with a greater maturity of songwriting than in their early days. Somewhat uncharacteristically, they verge here on becoming topical. “Street Fighting Man” gently mocks the trendiness of revolution, while “Sympathy for the Devil” seemingly reflects the growing violent side of the counterculture movement. Godard would use the song to tie together his film essay on the role of media in racial violence, and it would come to be associated with the murder of Meredith Hunter at Altamont a year later, though the band was actually playing a different song when the incident occurred. The album also sees the band incorporating country sounds into songs like “No Expectations” and “Dear Doctor.” Beggar’s Banquet, generally speaking, is a return to simplicity. Gone are the psychedelic trappings and in their places is just some good old fashioned rock ’n’ roll. It is perhaps appropriate, then, that the album ends with “Salt of the Earth,” a celebration of the average man and woman. This music is open to everyone.

44. The Joshua Tree, U2, 1987
In 1987, U2 wasn’t yet the biggest band in the world, but all that would start to change after they released The Joshua Tree. This album, U2’s 5th, the band moves a bit away from its earlier, New Wave-ish sound toward more American music. Many of the songs seem to be about life in America, and the music evokes the Southwest not through steel guitars or Navajo drums, but through sonic recreations of the sweeping vistas one would see out west. Like much of U2’s work, the album expresses a deep spirituality without overbearingly forcing it on the listener. Many of the songs like “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” seem to be about searching, but exactly what for—love, God, peace, authenticity, etc.—is left unstated. Despite the title of the aforementioned song, though, the The Joshua Tree’s evocation of the sublime American landscape shows us that there is something, at least, to be found. Side one, with three of U2’s biggest hits also including “Where the Streets Have No Name” and “With or Without You,” seems to be the stronger half of this album, though the reverse side is not without its high points. “In God’s Country” is a personal favorite.

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