Identity

Today I faced a trial I've been dreading for at least the past week: getting my UWF parking pass and ID card. Mind you, at Bucknell this was an extremely painless process. One might even say it was pleasant. However, I suspected that at a school three times the size of Bucknell, there would be lines and issues. My suspicion was vindicated when on Friday of last week I inquired about the process and was subsequently redirected to the appropriate office where there was quite the line of students. I opted to wait until Monday (today).

For various reasons, none of which really worth mentioning, I did not sleep last night, or I slept very little. My alarm went off at six a.m. signaling me to shower, drink coffee, and face UWF bureaucracy. I wanted to be there prior to the offices opening at eight a.m. so as to avoid a line. Of course I did not manage to avoid the line to get my parking pass, but it was minimal. I had no problems getting the pass. The next stop is the ID center. I walk in and the lady expects a receipt showing that I paid the $10 ID fee to the parking pass lady. I show her the receipt from the parking pass lady and she says it will not do. I respond by informing her that I'm faculty and, therefore, do not need to pay for my ID. Here is where the story gets interesting. She asks me how she's supposed to know I'm faculty and if she's expected to simply take my word for it. After all, she points out, I'm wearing a backpack. She tells me to get a note from my supervisor attesting to my status. I tell her that I will not do that and that she can take as proof that I'm faculty the fact that I'm holding the faculty parking pass I just purchased without incident. Again she is incredulous. I instruct her to run my ID number (printed on my parking pass receipt). This request is met with a deep sigh (mind you, no one else was in this office, so it wasn't like she was dealing with a horde of ID-hungry students). Coldly, she tells me to look at the camera, 1-2-3, and my picture is taken for the ID. Transaction over. On one hand, I was irritated with this woman who doubted that I was faculty, in the face of credible evidence, simply because I was wearing a backpack, and I was shocked by her cold demeanor; on the other hand, however, I was happy to have a business transaction with someone who treated me like shit, didn't call me 'hon', and didn't inquire about my life story ("what brangs ya' down here?, etc."). It was like a little taste of the northeast way down here in the deep south.

I'm looking forward to my appointment at the DMV a week from today.

Martyrs

If you are looking for a good horror flick, replete with gore, psychological torment (for both the viewer and the characters), and an uncompromising assault on your senses, see Martyrs. Even the final credits are haunting. I won't say much about this film as doing so could possibly ruin the ample payoff of viewing it. Despite the fact that the film is at times nearly unwatchable for its brutality, this is not a piece of torture porn. Or if it is, it is much smarter than its torture porn kin such as l' interieur, Hostel, Saw, and The Passion of the Christ. Because the violence is essential to the story and is presented in a way that is thereto serviceable, I am reluctant to classify Martyrs as "torture porn," a genre marked by its egregious depictions of violence for its own sake. Martyrs, unlike most modern horror, is hardly "easy watching." For example, unlike movies such as Hostel, you don't sit down with a beer and expect to be entertained by gratuitous gore and cheap frights. Viewing Martyrs is a different kind of experience; it is a personal experience. You will not watch it with the detachment with which you watch 28 Days Later or Cloverfield (though both of those are great films). You will not laugh, and at times you may forget to breathe or be afraid to do so. At the risk of inadvertently dissuading potential viewers, I will liken the experience of watching Martyrs to that of watching Requiem for a Dream (or may be The Descent) in terms of the film's ability to draw you into the story. It will leave you shaken, disturbed, and wondering what you did to make the director punish you so mercilessly.

Martyrs is splendidly acted and written. The soundtrack provides the perfect sonic canvass against which this heartbreaking story of abuse and obsession takes place. The color palette is subdued and sterile, which helps bring this feature to life.
Again, I leave this review brief so that you may discover the richness of this story for yourself. Do not read the Wikipedia entry on this movie as it is full of spoilers. However you may safely watch any of the official trailers, which are available on Youtube.

I hate being wrong

Typically, I don't mind revising my beliefs when confronted with recalcitrant data. This is what any intellectually respectable robot would do. However, some revisions are more fundamental than others, and today I had a fairly earth-shattering revelation. Upon the suggestion of a colleague, I gave the new Metallica album, "Death Magnetic," a listen. I wrote off Metallica in 1992 when the "Black Album" came out and they lost their edge, going pop under the tutelage of producer Bob Rock. Bob made them superstars, making their music accessible to the redneck masses. A series of shitty albums followed. Some contended that "St. Anger," the album before "Death Magnetic," was a return to their roots. No. It was heavier than the pop crap on Load or Reload, but it was unfocused and stupid. "Death Magnetic" is not a return to the greatness of Master of "Puppets" or "...And Justice for All," but it is a return to greatness. This is an album to be proud of. It is not overproduced like the "Black Album" (and its immediate successors), and the song writing has improved immensely. What is similar to "Justice" and "Puppets" is the intelligent orchestration and speed. Best of all, Hetfield has stopped trying to sing, at least on some (the better of the) tracks. He has gone back to doing what he does best: minimally tonal growling. There are still losers on this album. "All Nightmare Long" sucks. "Cyanide" sucks. But that's ok, so did "Escape" (Ride the Lightning) and "The Thing that Should not Be" (Master of Puppets) and "Eye of the Beholder" (...And Justice for All). But at least these two shitty songs on DM suck only because of their lyrics; the music is solid. I'm not going to go on and on as I do about t.A.T.u since Metallica is no t.A.T.u., but if you've lost hope that Metallica will ever be anything more than an embarrassment to their past, check out "Death Magnetic." In the words of Rolling Stone reviewer Brian Hiatt:

"Death Magnetic is the musical equivalent of Russia's invasion of Georgia — a sudden act of aggression from a sleeping giant."

Metallica, you proved me wrong.

Весёлые улыбки

After waiting months for my signed copy of t.A.T.y.'s (aka t.A.T.u.) new album (Весёлые улыбки, trans: Happy Smiles) to arrive, I lost my patience and ordered it over iTunes. Unsurprisingly, everyone's favorite Russian pop duo has delivered nothing short of a masterpiece. I feel compelled to post a short review. I shall proceed track by track, providing English translations of lyrics when necessary.


"Интро" (Intro):

In a fashion similar to that of their most recent release Люди инвалиды, the album starts off with an instrumental intro. My only complaint with this track is that it is three minutes and nine seconds of my life without the mellifluous voices of Yulia Volkova and Lena Katina. It is a tease, building tension in anticipation of the second track.


"Белый плащик" (White Robe):

This is the first single off the track, which came out nearly an eternal year before the release of the album. You are probably familiar with the video for this tune, which is as provocative as it is beautiful as it is moving. The synths swoop in, bombarding the listener like a Soviet tank only to retreat from the force of Lena's vocals. Yulia's haunting voice dominates the mix of the chorus:

Bullet in the heart
Brain on the door
limb and wings
We’re putting on
This white robe
Soul to heaven
We put it in a box
We let it go

This is one of the album's strongest tracks and rewards repeated listening. The poignant lyrics were penned by a 16-year old fan named Maria Maksakova (Esa on the official t.A.T.y forum). Three of her poems comprise the lyrics.


"You and I":

This track also follows in the steps of the album's predecessor. Like "All about Us" it is sung in English. Devotees will recall that this song is of the same title as the t.A.T.y movie whose release date seems to always be pushed back another couple months. In both structure and melody it resembles "All about Us." It is not nearly as strong as "All about Us," though it is still a delightful ditty. I cannot wait for the movie. I'll drive 200 km/h in the wrong lane to see it, 5 times. Desperation sublimates from the bridge:

No truths to confirm
No lies to deny
Too hopeless to care
We're too scared to cry


"Снегопады" (Snowfalls):

I admit that I don't quite understand the lyrics to this song. But this would not bet the first time that I am faced with the fact that I am just not intelligent enough to appreciate the profundity of t.A.T.y.'s prose. For example, consider the following lines:

We appear together as stars
We're different
You're a blue star
I am bright red

This is a metaphor, I am sure, but a metaphor for what? Whatever it means, I love it. This tune starts out a bit house-y, but soon transforms, becoming dark albeit beat-driven and irresistibly danceable.


"220":

This is THE strongest track. My only complaint is that it is not long enough. '220', a reference to the voltage standard in Europe, begins with a cutting portomento analogue synth line. I could go my whole life listening to no other song. I also recommend viewing the video, which showcases t.A.T.y.'s skills-of-a-dancer.

Teach me to wait
And smile and say
I want everything returned
If this is love, to know at once
You don't understand the dream
If this is love, know that everything is used
Reflections of sunlight on the wall
After sunset I die
Death is twice as easy

It is as if this song were written for me alone.


"Марсианские глаза" (Martian Eyes)

I used to be scared of Martians in my more xenophobic days (as a child, before I learned about relativity theory and the vastness of the universe, I was deathly afraid of an extraterrestrial alien invasion), but not anymore. Indeed, they must have incomprehensibly enchanting eyes to inspire this ballad.

Alright go
I abolish you
I'm alone again
Obviously, I'm painful
And can't sleep again
Count the bunnies
Search the squirrel
I want to stay silent

The listener finds himself suppressing the urge to weep in the face of "Martian Eyes," a moving and, dare I say, magical piece. Clocking in at three minutes and ten seconds, it is the perfect dose of melancholy. Just enough to make you appreciate how happy "220" made you.


Человечки (Little People):

The vocal harmonies on this track are cool as hell, and the arrangement is, if anything, symphonic in its sophistication. We get more of the killer portomento analogue synth that we loved so much in "220." "Человечки" paints a picture of a foggy early morning in a pristine meadow. You're being chased by vampires hungry to taste your blood before the sun peeks over the distance. Or may be you are the vampire, famished, desperate for just one drop of blood. Willing to dare the sun to exist.


"Весёлые улыбки" (Happy Smiles):

The title track is probably the darkest sounding on the album, ironically. Throaty synths and highly reverbed drums construct a lush, eerie, and purple landscape. This short track is instrumental, but alone worth the price of the album.


"Running Blind":

The English tracks on t.A.T.y. albums are rarely as great as the Russian ones. This is one of those rare cases. Something important is about to happen. I don't know what it is, but it is damn important. This is what this song tells me. I'll wait t.A.T.y., I'll wait for you to show me.

Are you near me?
Are you only in my mind?

This song is so good it makes me sick.


"Fly on the Wall"

This song starts of incredibly layered, but softens up for Julia:

When you're naked in the shower
When you're sleeping for an hour
When you're big
When you're small
Oh, I wish I was a fly on the wall.

The chorus revisits the rich, orchestrated synths, which I happen to have a soft spot for, admittedly; however, the melody of the vocal part sounds a bit too predicable for my taste. The lyrical content is unassailable, but melodically it is a bit too close to what you might hear at a strip club.


"Время Луны" (Time of the Moon):

Back to their native tongue, this song opens with a tribal beat that is soon crushed by overdriven guitars and Yulia chanting in a hypnotic, monotone voice:

Start all over
Don't look up to the glass
Don't brake it
They shine contacts and bobbins
We put out their uselessness
Fire and wind
Too late
In order to stop us
Start all over
We take off
And don't dash already

The girls are pissed, and you better listen. Anger makes way for a melodic bridge sung by everyone's favorite Russian redhead, Lena Katina. But Yulia is still pissed and answers with the brutal chorus.


"Не жалей" (Don't Regret):

Atmospheric and downbeat, "Не жалей" is dangerously close to sounding new age (think: Enya), but the double-time vocals and ensuing addition of rock drums save this song from failure. Personally I could do without the acoustic guitar and piano, but it isn't bad. I would have liked to have seen the album end on more of a high note, especially given what triumph the album is as a whole. It is the duo's first release on their own label and they ought to be proud of the gift they've given us.

With t.A.T.y. we learn, with t.A.T.y. we love. No matter how deep the waters in which they lead us, we know that we aren't alone. Yulia and Lena are there to guide us through the dark seas they, themselves, have created for us. Each song is an opportunity for reflection. You look into this ocean only to see yourself as you've never seen before, but illumated by t.A.T.y.'s Happy Smiles.

New Toy

I just bought a Mesa/Boogie 2x12 Roadster Rectifier amp. It is sweet. Luscious cleans and rich distortions. I can actually hear the tone of my guitar now, whereas before all the processing masked the character of my instrument. The thing weighs a ton! I could barely get it up the stairs. It has like eleventythousand tubes in the back (actually 6). The amp has 4 independent channels each with its own tone characteristics, which makes it basically 4 amps in one. I have yet to crank it past the 8 o'clock position because it is so damn loud. The amp can run in 50watt mode or 100watt mode (you can specify this for each channel!) and there's all sorts of other crazy things you can do with the amp that I haven't quite figured out. It is the most versatile amp at this price point and the second most versatile amp on the market (beaten only by its big brother, the Mesa Road King). I still haven't figured out how to get super saturated distortions out of it, but supposedly they are there for the taking. Yes, I know the music room is aclutter. I need to find an efficient arrangement.