I know. Where’s the content John? Where’s the hard hitting journalism we’ve come to know and love? Well, this was going to be my critical week….and then I came down with the stomach flu! It’s awesome! In the meantime, here’s a Coronet film:
Sit quietly at your desks while I pass out.
Last week I posted my memories of Will Hall. Here is his official obituary.
http://www.oleantimesherald.com/articles/2010/02/05/editorial/doc4b6c8983e3e87653476521.txt
Rest in peace Will.
According to various credible sources, Chicago emo juggernaut Fall Out Boy might be coming to an end. Pointy banged exhibitionist Pete Wentz posted this on his blog today:
“There is the possibility that FOB will play again with out me or I will be a part of it when everyone is on the same page.”
Drummer Andy Hurley put a slightly brighter spin on things on FOB’s message board:
“I believe in us, and I believe we will get in a room, hash out the bullshit like in Some Kind Of Monster (haha) and we will be super stoked to do another record. I know all of us are already, but just not at this exact moment.”
I know it’s cool to hate on Fall Out Boy, but they could always be counted on for a good single.
Be prepared for a reunion tour with Panic! At the Disco in 2025. Hopefully Wentz will be able to fit in the jeans.
Credit: AV Club
Band: The Replacements
Who They Are: Lovable drunks from Minneapolis led by sensitive fuckup, Paul Westerberg
The Contestants:
Let it Be
Released in 1984 by Twin/Tone Records
Vs.
Tim
Released in 1985 by Sire Records
The Pros:
The Cons:
The Pros
The Cons:
The Verdict:
This was really hard, but I went with Let it Be. It’s a sentimental favorite. However, I’m sure Tim will have its defenders. What do you think?
“Everybody wants to be special here. They call your name out loud and clear.” –The Replacements, “Here Comes a Regular”
I never actually met Will Hall. I can count the number of times we messaged each other on one hand. He spoke in giant blocks of blue text. I didn’t even know his real name until last Friday night. The name Will Hall meant nothing to me, but the persona he created certainly did. I haven’t spoken to Iggy in almost five years. I moved on from the message board where we “met.” It’s not a real physical friendship, but I got a lump in my throat when I heard the news that he passed away. I went back to my old stomping grounds at Metal Sludge and everyone was saying the same thing: “This is really hard to explain to people who aren’t on this board.” I don’t know if I can, but I’m going to try.
I got to know IggyPopWillEatItself in 2006. I was writing a paper on vinyl collections, and he was one of my interviews. Iggy was a music journalist disguised as a message board poster. I’ve met anyone with more musical knowledge or passion. His tone was conversational, but he always got his point across. He didn’t have an elitist attitude. He liked what he liked, and wanted to help people discover it too. It was the purest form of rock criticism. He turned me onto a lot of bands that I wouldn’t have given a chance otherwise. The Replacements, John Coltrane, Elton John and Pretty Boy Floyd were on the same level. He liked them, and that was the only thing that mattered.
He told me his name was Rob, a sly nod to Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity. A couple of days after our conversation, I got a message in my box:
“Thanks for the interview John! I had a lot of fun!”
We didn’t talk much after that. I was removing myself from message boards because I was tired of petty arguments. When I got hired by 411Mania, I sent him the link and told him to apply. He thanked me and complimented me on an article I had written. It was the last time I heard from him.
I continued to lurk around Metal Sludge, just to catch up on the gossip, feuds and flame wars. Iggy was the one constant. Things would change, but he was always in the thick of it. Metal Sludge gave him his voice. It was his blog, his domain.
I hadn’t thought of Iggy in a long time, but I was stunned by the news of his death. He was the heart and soul of that website. He was also a major influence on my writing because he showed me that you could be critical of something and still be a fan. I’m going to miss the big blue font.
Rest in peace Will. I’m cranking Tim in your honor.
“D.B. asked me what I thought about all this stuff I just finished telling you about. I didn’t know what to say. I don’t even know what I think about it. All I know is that I sort of miss all the people I told you about, even old Stradlater and Ackley. I even miss that goddamn Maurice. Don’t ever tell anyone anything. If you do, you start missing everybody. -The Catcher in the Rye.”
Rest in peace Mr. Salinger. Thank you for everything
Twenty four months ago, Los Campesinos became indie rock deities on the strength of their full length debut, Hold on Now Youngster. A mere eleven months later, they cemented their place in the hearts of critics with their follow-up, We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed. Beautiful was a much darker record than Youngster, but still had the effervescent energy of its predecessor. The effervescence is in short supply this time around. With Romance is Boring, Los Campesinos has officially entered the second phase of their career.
The biggest change is Gareth Campesinos’ voice. On the first two albums, he sounded like he would lose his voice at any moment, shouting out the lyrics with rapid-fire intensity. On Romance is Boring, his voice is much lower and the singing is more deliberate. The slower pacing puts the spotlight on the lyrics, which are disarmingly personal. The relationship problems go much deeper than the usual mixture of infidelity and boredom. The narrator’s lover has an eating disorder, and it is wreaking havoc on both lives. He pulls no punches, describing the “vomit in her gullet” from the bottle of vodka she drank. The direct tone of the lyrics may be too much for some listeners, but it’s much more effective than a bunch of flowery metaphors.
The other major change is the departure of Alecks Campesinos, who left the band to go back to school. Her sweet, girlish vocals provided the melodic counterpoint to Gareth’s harsh yelps. Alecks’ has been replaced by her sister Kim, who has dutifully taken the Campesinos surname. She sounds similar to her sister, but her voice is slightly lower. Instead of providing a counterpoint, her voice blends with Gareth’s lower tone.
The music has changed to reflect the new direction. On the first two albums, Harriet Campesinos’ viola provided a John Cale-like drone. On Romance is Boring, it carries the melody. The bleeping keyboards and chiming bell sets are used more sparingly. Tom Campesinos’ guitar playing is more traditional and less punky. The manic energy crops up on a few tracks (“Straight in at 101,” “I Sighed, I Sighed, I Sighed, Just So You Know”), but it’s more calculated. It’s as if the group burned off all their youthful energy early so they could explore these new ideas.
I’ve been racking my brain for the past few days trying to come up with a clever way to say that the band has matured, but there’s no other way to put it. Some fans will mourn the loss of the clanging bells, pounding beats and furious vocals, but they couldn’t do that forever. If Los Campesinos came out with a sequel to We Are Beautiful, they would have been savaged in the press. Romance is Boring does not have the instant gratification of the first two records, but it is anything but boring.
