CD Review: Dirty Dancing, The Deluxe Anniversary Edition

It's hard to believe that Dirty Dancing is 25 years old. Let that sink in all: TWENTY FIVE YEARS.

Now that we all feel old, let's move on to the real meat of the business. In honor of the anniversary, there's a new edition of the soundtrack available where much of the content was voted on by fans. The package contains a nice booklet full of liner notes and behind-the-scenes interviews, photo cards, an awesome sticker that would look rad on my Trapper Keeper, and is wrapped up in a pretty little booklet. And of course, the real gift is the album. I had that album on cassette and it was on heavy rotation back in the day. Classic '80s soundtrack.

It's on sale in a multitude of placess including Amazon, so if you're into this kind of thing, pick it up.

And because I'm feeling nostalgic for Patrick Swayze now, here's his hit song "She's Like The Wind," which he actually co-wrote. Singer, songwriter, dancer, actor, adorable... love ya, Patrick!

Next Caller: The Dane Cook Sitcom You'll Never Get To Watch

Did you know that NBC had started filming a sitcom vehicle for Dane Cook called Next Caller? Cook plays a misogynist "shock jock" who suddenly gets a new feminist co-host. Uh-oh! Hijinks and hilarity to ensue! Well, don't worry about it, because it's already been canceled before it even aired. This here clip just about tells us everything we need to know about it anyway:



Based on this clip alone, I can predict how the whole series would have gone down anyway:

• At some point, Dane Cook tells her to "shave your legs and calm down."
• Dane Cook will say disgusting things about women, and his co-host will flip out and give him lessons on being politically correct.
• Dane Cook will suddenly spout feminist rhetoric, and his "bro" fans will have to stage an intervention.
• Feminist co-host will be dumped by a guy, and Dane Cook will tell her to "buck up and act like a guy," leading to a montage of them binge drinking and going to strip clubs together. They will inevitably spend a night together, and there is a "he said, she said" rendition of the story told to everyone.
• Dane Cook will attempt to seduce an attractive female, but feminist co-host will intervene and convince said woman that Dane Cook is just a womanizer, and Dane Cook will be angry that she cock-blocked him.
• The phrase "on the rag" will be used.
• The Indigo Girls will be mentioned, and not in a positive way.

There! Now you didn't even need to watch this series. I hope that Collette Wolfe gets another break, because she is adorable and funny (and was a scene stealer in Hot Tub Time Machine and Observe & Report, among others). NBC, I can't believe you would air this on the same channel as Parks & Recreation. Imagine what Leslie Knope would think!

Concert Review: Morrissey, Radio City Music Hall

Morrissey at 2006 SXSW. ©2006 Charlie Llewellin.

On October 10th, 2012, I watched Stephen Patrick Morrissey slog his way through a halfhearted set at Radio City Music Hall only to find himself at a loss when his apathetic audience failed to shower him with the kind of warm adoration he's become accustomed to. When you bask in the glow of the faithful, it's hard not to give them what they want. When their response is so tepid you have to ask them if "they are alive" and "if so, how do they know?," the give-and-take has started its swirling descent around the live show drain.

Listen, I know Moz is older, wiser, and less apt to pogo around with wild abandon, but the strong-arm tactics of the intimidating line of security up front and the whining of the giant, diaper-wearing, man baby behind me who kept crying about us being "too loud" made the show difficult to enjoy. The number of people checking baseball scores on their iPhones was equal to those trying to kick start the excitement for the rest of us desperate to dance around and enjoy ourselves. This was supposed to be a rock concert, not a night at the ballet.

You're probably wondering why any Smiths fan would expect more juice from a still spry Morrissey, but I promise you I've seen him fire on all cylinders and this wasn't one of those nights. He sounded good, the song choice was decent (Smiths favorite "Still Ill" was performed instead of "How Soon Is Now?" during the encore), and the venue seemed like the perfect touch of old world nostalgia. But he lost everyone's attention midway during the bloody drawn-out video montage behind the droning funeral dirge that was "Meat Is Murder," and had to work to get it back.

Don't get me wrong, there were a handful of shining moments. Perhaps the most exciting development was the number of smart-looking button-down shirts (four!) he had to go through in between songs and his propensity for throwing them sweat-soaked into a thrilled front row.

It's a safe bet that the older, more reserved king of mope that inhabits the dreams of Morrissey fans world wide bears little resemblance to the sullen outsider and wordsmith I remember from my youth, but I just wish he'd provided the spark that was needed to fully ignite an audience waiting to be engulfed in flames.

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DVD Review: The Beach Boys: Doin' It Again

The Beach Boys were the first band I ever loved. As a kid their harmonies were infectious, and they had a wholesome sound that evoked the sun-dappled afternoons on Pacific beaches that the Wide World of Disney or the Brady Bunch in Hawaii romanticized. I remember going to a summer camp that had a huge cabinet LP player and a copy of Endless Summer perpetually on rotation, and loved the optimism and promise the music aroused. Even as the band devolved into an oldies act, playing state fairs and aging before my eyes, I never lost my enthusiasm for their music, and if anything, have come to appreciate how complex and gorgeous it is even more.

That's why I was so excited to hear about The Beach Boys: Doin' It Again, a new DVD celebrating their recent reunion and the fifty years of music that preceded it. It's a fine survey of the band, lovingly balanced between footage of the young band making all-time classic American music in the '60s and their geriatric but surprisingly spry selves today, touring behind their new album, That's Why God Made The Radio. It's an important reminder of how vital the Beach Boys were to the development of rock and roll--on par with the Beatles back in the day--and how with the right combination of perseverance and positive attitude, you can defy the whips and scorns of time and remain relevant into your twilight years.

And make no mistake: the band is in their twilight years. It's sobering to see Brian Wilson's sagging flesh or Al Jardine's face fold into a hundred creases when he smiles. And they have not been together in decades, having dealt with Brian's mental health, lost both Dennis and Carl Wilson, and sparred over the bands legacy. The bandmates, however, sound invigorated in their interviews, cheerfully reminiscing about how Mike Love and the Wilson brothers got their start singing at family holiday gatherings. Bruce Johnston gives a nice lesson on how he developed the propulsive riffs of early hits like "Surfin' USA" and "409," and as each band member talks about how their unique voices contribute to the multi-layered harmonies the band is known for, you get a growing appreciation for how gifted Brian Wilson was at manipulating them into some of the most gorgeous music of the rock era.

CD Review: Green Day, ¡Uno!

¡Uno! is Green Day having fun again. They've said their piece about the state of the world. They've proved everything there is to prove. And now they have the wicked gleam of a great idea in their eyes. An idea full of stomps, claps, and loud guitar solos. No wonder "Stay The Night" starts with "Well I ain't got much time so I'll get to the point, do you wanna share a ride and get the fuck out of this joint?" It's midnight on the first day of summer and it's time for adventure.

Almost all of the next forty-two minutes deliver, like the irresistible hook of "Fell For You" and the echo of the harmonies in "Loss Of Control" ("We're all crazy, you're all crazy now"). It races by like the road runner. Stop to breathe and you've had it. The last two albums needed huge music to match the sweeping statements behind them. Everything was massive. It feels good to get back to hammer-down rock n' roll. Even the production of ¡Uno! feels cleaner, like being in the room for a jam session.

A quiet moment comes in "Sweet 16", the kind of spare, beautiful ballad that Billie seems to pull out of his back pocket like it's nothing. Kryptonite.

The closer "Oh Love" is the only track that veers off the rails. "Rusty James" would have a been a better ending. Still, one clunker in the batch doesn't really hurt. ¡Uno! is exactly what Green Day needed to do next. Count the days until ¡Dos!

DVD/CD Review: Athens, GA - Inside/Out

If ever there was anyone more primed and ready to love the one-two punch of the beloved Athens, Ga documentary Athens, GA - Inside/Out and its accompanying soundtrack in a double whammy of southern goodness, it's me.

Written and directed by Tony Gayton, this is Athens before it became hyper-aware of itself and its reputation as the progenitor of all things musically and artistically desirable. A hipster haven before hipsters were ironic and the Liverpool of the southern United States.

In the spirit of full disclosure I should tell you that my husband was an Athens Ga, musician for years. And although I lived in Atlanta at the time, I saw so many familiar faces and places in this movie that I was lost in a haze of youthful melancholy for hours afterward. When I was there, it was my first view into the strange world of unfettered artistic expression and complete lack of fear. There were both absolute genius and steaming piles of artistic dung but they coexisted beautifully. With this revelation came a moment of crystal clarity: you didn't need to be in New York or LA to make something incredible for public scrutiny and consumption, it could be just for the bit of joy you got from doing it and for the sake of the process.

The film does a beautiful job of capturing the wild, seat-of-your-pants, creative fever that gripped so many young people that resided there. A hot bed of artistic freedom and cheap rents, Athens is the sleepy college town all other universities wish they had. You get Peter Buck wandering around in his pajamas and giving you a tour of the Elvis-themed bathroom, the world famous William Orten Carlton or Ort (giving off a dark Philip Seymour Hoffman vibe) waxing poetic on what makes Athens so special while holding his beer can prop, haunting performances by Dreams So Real, gut-punching tunes from Flat Duo Jets and Kilkenny Cats; for these reasons alone you should own this disc.

"Local artists, nice weather, nice people, good record stores" are the reasons Peter Buck lists for loving Athens and staying anchored there for so many years, but for all its unlikely oddball heroes, the town also churned out some of alternative rock's most powerful heavy hitters. Big time behemoths R.E.M and the B-52's bang out their songs alongside early performances by Pylon, Love Tractor, and The Squalls. Even with this footage from their musical infancy, some of these bands showcase what a launching pad this place was in the late '80s and early '90s.

The Master: Does It Deserve The Praise?

This weekend, Paul Thomas Anderson's (PTA, to the superfans) much hyped The Master arrived in theaters. No one was more excited than I. His previous films, Boogie Nights, Magnolia, and There Will Be Blood are probably all somewhere in my top ten of all time. All time! And then, I hear PTA is making about a movie about a cult! Starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman! It's like PTA made a movie specifically catered to me.

Now let me assure you of a few things before I present any criticism of the film. I don't need a movie to have a clear plotline or even have a definite resolution. In fact, I enjoy films that leave me wondering about the true meaning (I was only one who clapped, not groaned, at the last scene in Inception). I also appreciate films for being simply visual works of art. Heck, I often find myself in arguments defending Lars Von Trier movies. I like symbolism in movies, and am usually the first to appreciate something that has an interpretation of many levels.

So, no one was more surprised than I when I walked away from The Master thinking "what a hot mess." The first half of the film was incredibly engaging: we see Freddy Quell (a newly emaciated Joaquin Phoenix) released from active duty in the Navy, wandering into one menial job into the other, always having to leave because of his penchant for physical altercations. There are beautiful shots of an open field, the ocean, and a steady shot of a department store. He meets The Master, Lancaster Dodd, by chance and there is an incredible, Oscar-worthy scene of Dodd leading Freddy through an "initiation exercise" that has him reveal his true self. I had a cinema boner in that scene. I was sold. I was ready to throw an Oscar at the screen.

Concert Review: Eytan & The Embassy, Knitting Factory (NYC)

I walked into a very empty Knitting Factory around 8:15 PM on Saturday night. Starting to wonder what I had been sent into, I patiently waited with my drink and notepad as the opening band played on.

Around 9, it was like someone turned on a switch: the place filled up with Brooklynites of a range of ages, all ready for some great music. One more band was on before Eytan, and while they brought some incredible energy, the crowd was buzzing as the Embassy started to take the stage. A man behind me said "they can't fill a whole hour," but something about the excitement in this crowd told me otherwise.

The first note I jotted down was "KILLER ENERGY!!!" This band turned it up to 11 immediately, and showed absolutely no signs of stopping. Somehow, they managed to find this perfect balance of a good time without being insane on stage. They got the crowd involved, keeping up a great rapport as I believe only bands playing in Brooklyn seem to be able to do.

CD Review: Belle Histoire, Dreaming

Something about Cinncinnati-based band Belle Histoire harkens back to the mid '90s. It might be the earnest vibe of their sound, solid rock coupled with romanticism that comes with a female singer backed by guitars alternating between grungy and sweet. Listening to their debut album Dreamers makes me wonder what The Cranberries are up to these days.

I know -- bands hate it when reviewers make such comparisons. But that's sort of how we roll. Plus, lead vocalist Jane Smith does have that same sound that Cranberry Dolores O'Riordan has. So much so that I can almost detect the tinge of an Irish accent in her voice. Which I'm probably imagining.

Could be worse, you guys. I could've said they sound like lesser '90s chick-led-group Sixpence None The Richer. It wouldn't have been a stretch. But Smith's vocals are rich enough, the band's faster songs hooky enough, and their ballads poignant enough to give them some real musical substance, rather than just some band you might hear during a montage of longing looks on The Vampire Diaries.

Uptempo songs like "Kids" and "Don't Run Away" provide nice, guitar-riffy, harmonized jolts that keep the album lively, if perhaps just a little on the tame side. It's easier to imagine the peppier tunes playing beneath the sound of the steamed milk machine at Starbucks than at a club. Still, they were catchy enough for me to sing rowdily out loud while listening through my ear buds ("We are the kids who drove the crowd away/We dance, we sing, we rock, we dream and follow what we believe"), even if I was in line waiting for my morning Venti Pike Roast.

The go-to song on the album, though, is its centerpiece ballad, "Do You Love Me," a sweet and simple piano-backed poem about love, need and desperation ("I'll only drown if you push me/I'll only soar as high as you fly me.") It's the one I listened to three times in a row.

I'm rooting for Belle Histoire. I hope they're going to be in the game for a while. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go back and hear that ballad one more time.

CD Review: Ben Taylor, Listening

It is impossible to review an album by, much less mention Ben Taylor without mentioning that he is the genetic spawn of James Taylor and Carly Simon. That's a lot of pressure and expectations to live up to. Some, like a petulant teenager, would reject his parents' proclivities and try to establish himself in the most opposite way possible. Have you heard that Tom Hanks's son is a rapper? Anyway, I digress.

Ben Taylor has seemed to embrace his lineage. He's toured with his father and embraced the folk sentiments of the elder Taylor. But this isn't your mother's folk music. Taylor's folk isn't the simple sensitive singer-songwriter with just a guitar and their feelings. This is well-produced and has a backing band, making many of the songs ready for crossover to the pop world.