Student Life Archives

Nobody is a better long-distance driving companion than yourself. There’s nobody next to you saying “Marisa, if you insist on listening to Elton John, I’m gonna gag reflex all over the front seat.” No sir, you are captain of the ship, the USS Uber-Funkmobile, and nobody is going to lick their finger and stick it in your ear while you’re trying to change lanes (I usually drive with my sisters).
This past weekend, I passed on the annual Halloween shenanigans on campus in order to drive home to Chicago for a long weekend. Not only did I get some much-needed rest and relaxation, my parents bought me the George Forman Grill. I can now cook cow-flesh in the comfort of my own kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom, it’s that convenient. Heck, I could cook in bed if I wanted to. Thanks Mom and Dad, and thank you, George Forman.
Other highlights of this road trip included: (1) finding the world’s only carpeted Arby’s in Pontiac, IL, (2) finding the world’s worst restroom at a Shell station in Waggoner, IL, and (3) listening to Elton John as loud as I damn well pleased.
Now, the best part about having no passengers in the car with you is that you can take a detour and frolic in the flowerbeds. On the drive home on I-55 between Chicago and St. Louis, there aren’t a whole lot of attractions to see. Soybeans and silos, mmmm boy! But there were two off-the-road attractions I was determined to explore and both, conveniently enough, are just a stone’s throw away from St. Louis if you had super stone-throwing arms. The first is the Mother Jones Monument; the second is the world’s largest Catsup Bottle.
Who is Mother Jones? For you ignorant, uncouth scum who obviously don’t know anything, Mother Jones was a Union labor leader who stood up for miners’ rights and marched for child labor laws and such and such. So what is she (in monument form) doing in Mt. Olive, IL, population 2,126? That’s a good question. Maybe she got lost like I did trying to find her monument. I got off at Exit 44, under the impression that those brown historic marking signs would lead me to this clearly significant historic figure, and before I knew it, I was heading down Old Route 66 heading back towards Chicago.
When I finally did find the monument, I have to say, I was underwhelmed. If the monument shot off fireworks every hour on the hour, or if they had a robotic Mother Jones spouting words of wisdom in the form of clever limericks, then maybe I’d be impressed. For those of you clicking your tongues and saying I have no respect for history, I say to you: yup.
On to Collinsville, Ill., proud home of the world’s largest bottle of Catsup (their spelling, not mine-I spell it “ketchup”). But here’s the catch. It’s a water tower shaped like a ketchup bottle and not an actual bottle of ketchup. It’s not even filled with ketchup. It’s filled with water. Yeah, I know, I almost marched into Collinsville City Hall and pitched a hissy fit, too. Here’s the other catch: I couldn’t find it! I wandered around Collinsville, craning my neck skyward, nearly rear-ending a guy in a pick-up, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of our nation’s quirky wonders.
Instead of the world’s largest bottle of Catsup in Collinsville, Ill., I found two very humorously named beauty salons: (1) Mane Tamers, whose store-front sign features a frightening lion (“Mane,” I get it, but honestly.) and (2) Sizzor Shak-I kid you not, that is how the sign was spelled.
So what did I learn? If you take the road less traveled, chances are, you’ll be disappointed. I also learned that Collinsville, Ill. is the hallmark of good taste in America. And finally, I learned that Mother Jones could totally take George Forman in a cage match.

Try this for a change of pace:
My toilet is named Church. Or, at least, “church” is the only word written on my toilet, and it’s written on the underside of the seat. It’s one of those small rounded seats that wraps all the way around and kind of compresses your cheeks as you sit on it (which is really helpful).
Church has been around a while. The metal mechanisms in the water tank have all rusted, but in a dignified way, like gray hair on a professor. (Get the simile? We’re tinkling on our professor. . . and doing other stuff. Similes are great fun. Oh look, it continues:)
Even in his old age, Church isn’t judgmental. He knows I could produce better work if I didn’t drink coffee, or didn’t eat Mexican food, or maybe if I spent more time on him. Still, he doesn’t complain, or, at least, not until recently.
A couple of weeks ago, Church failed our whole apartment. One day, I came home and his water tank cover was leaning against the bathtub. So, I put it back on him and (pardon the graphic language) “peed.” [hi mom] Then it hit me. (Well, no, that’s not true. First I shook once-not twice, that would be playing with myself-and then zipped my pants.) Then it hit me: he’s still flushing, and I don’t think he plans on stopping. Ever.
Sometime later that week three things happened at the same time: 1) I was home. 2) My roommate was home. 3) Nature called. Suddenly we both realized that Church was, in fact, broken.
(It’s kind of like the rule of dishes: nobody will “realize” the dishes need to be done until we’re all in the kitchen at the same time. And even then we’re not sure. “Dude, these flies need a shower. Like, now.”)
Like gringos who drank the water, we sprang into action. My Roommate went to diagnose the problem while I fetched my man tape. We began, of course, by stripping naked, engaging in some Greco-Roman wrestling, and painting hieroglyphs on each other with laundry detergent to look manly-fearsome in black light.
Then, with our fixing power limited to attaching one part of Church to another part of Church, we went to work. My roommate is quick at diagnosing the problem: “So, I think that this thing is supposed to be attached to that thing.” But I’m better at finding the solution. “Okay, then maybe we should tape it back on.”
That done, we flushed a trial bowl and met with success. But our testing was incomplete. We should have simulated human waste. (We both got stage fright and couldn’t perform with an audience.)
Apparently the harsh watery environment of the water tank was too much for our duct tape strategy, so we called the repairman. We never saw him (so, to be politically correct, I guess it could have been a repairmonkey, and not necessarily a “man”), but about a week later I came home and found a note on the door that said “the toilet” was fixed.
Clearly the repairmammal also tested “the toilet” without human feces, because weeks later we still have to dig around Church’s entrails to stop his flushing every time.
Church doesn’t like this one bit. Something causes his air bladder in his water tank to vibrate at a low pitch. In other words: Church has learned how to impersonate a tornado siren doing yoga. It’s a deep “Ohhmmmmm” that sends the girls upstairs to the basement in various stages of undress. (that last part-about the naked girls running by our windows-that’s a lie. But I couldn’t think of a manly explanation-besides laziness or incompetence-for why we still haven’t fixed Church).
My roommate claims that if you turn on the faucet, he’ll stop. I’ve discovered that he’ll stop if you tap his bladder. Knowing my other roommate, he’s probably concluded that the black light makes your pee look really cool. I think we all agree that the sink kinda looks like a urinal if you squint your eyes and don’t really feel like flushing. (Right guys.)

by Peter Hanrahan

Winter Sleepers
Starring: Ulrich Matthes, Marie Lou-Sellem, Floriane Daniel
Directed by: Tom Tykwer
How Much: $29.99

Way back in 1997, before anybody had heard of his rapid-fire film Run, Lola Run, German director Tom Tykwer, was taking life a little slower. Winter Sleepers turns on the same tokens of fate and chance that fuel Lola, but it takes a moment to think about all the different places it goes.
A car theft, a terrifying car accident which puts a little girl in a coma, a virile ski instructor and his girlfriend and an army veteran afflicted with the same short-term memory malfunction as our friend from Memento all play into Tykwer’s tortuous orchestration. Lives intertwine, chance and coincidence commingle and everything ends in good and bad in a dusty, dream-like winter. More like a Robert Altman ensemble piece than Lola or his recent Princess, Tykwer takes this one through to the end. At over two hours, it requires some patience to sift through, and I wouldn’t recommend renting it for a wily Friday night-but on a cold winter evening, nothing can beat it.
The DVD transfer glows crisply, and the audio is as good as can be expected (not like you’re listening to all that German-speak anyhow). Not a lot of extras, but none really are needed. The snow and ice and interpersonal architecture are enough to suck you in, and send you reeling through a winter dream.

Blue Velvet
Starring: Kyle McLachlan, Isabella Rossellini, Laura Dern, Dennis Hopper
Directed by: David Lynch
How Much: $19.99

Mullholland Drive might make you hungry for more of David Lynch’s delicious, mysterious takes on American underthings, and what better to satisfy your craving than his 1986 masterpiece Blue Velvet.
Kyle McLachlan finds an ear. A human ear. In a field in a small town in middle America. That’s where it starts. Then he meets the investigating cop’s blond, blue-eyed daughter, played by Laura Dern, and they establish a sweet-as-pie summer romance. At the same time, McLachlan takes it into his own hands to research the rogue ear, and a few clues gathered here (or should we say, hear) and there lead him to the sultry Isabella Rossellini and her terrible, tainted past. Voyeurism and sexual perversion abound.
The MGM DVD plays host to a decent transfer (curiously marred at integral moments by flickering black in the upper portion of the screen) and fairly standard audio. There aren’t a whole lot of extras-the theatrical trailer is basically all you get. Still, the eerie cinematography (in which ominous blacks, blues and reds predominate) looks violently sharp. Blue Velvet could benefit from a worthy transfer and some documentary extras. Perhaps the Criterion Collection will take this puppy and do it up right. But for now, this version will more than do.

Haiku Tunnel
Starring: Josh Kornbluth, Warren Keith, Harry Shearer
Directed by: Josh and Jacob Kornbluth

By Kevin Skiena

This really should have been a better movie.
In a society where the corporate system has become such a powerful subject, audiences tend to flock to movies about breaking out of the mundane. American Beauty, Office Space and Being John Malkovich are just a few that have achieved popular and cult success.
Josh and Jacob Kornbluth come along with a great idea that looks at the issue from the other side: a temp trying to cope with going perm. The movie establishes itself well as neither a downright mockery of business, nor a literal representation. The characters are humorous caricatures of secretaries and lawyers. The movie’s problem is not in the acting, but in the gimmicks.
Haiku Tunnel is the story of Josh Kornbluth (played by Josh Kornbluth). Josh’s whole life is temporary. He lost his girlfriend because he could not commit, and he has never had a stable job. He is proud of his life as a temp agent, but all this changes when he starts working for the law offices of Schuyler & Mitchell. He soon discovers that a life with S & M is far different than anything he has ever done before. He works as the secretary for Bob Shelby (Warren Keith). Shelby’s previous secretary calls Josh on the job to warn him that Bob may seem like a nice guy, but he is in fact evil. Josh’s life really starts to fall apart when he is offered a permanent job with S & M.
Josh struggles with the responsibilities of being a permanent employee. For instance, his first job is to mail out 17 important letters for Bob, but through an involved display of procrastination and mishaps, he manages to miss his deadline. He spends most of his days at the office working on his novel and avoiding Bob. He dreams of the days when everything in his life was temporary and he had no commitments.
The movie seems obviously low budget, and the actors are relatively unknown, but the film does a job of dealing with it. The acting generally stands out. The characters are fun to watch and Josh Kornbluth’s facial expressions are hysterical. The movie uses what it has to work with, but the problem of this movie is self-indulgence. It is co-written, co-directed, and starring Josh Kornbluth. Haiku Tunnel quickly dissolves into gimmicks and jokes that are not funny enough to last as long as they do. Every character, with the possible exception of Josh, is underdeveloped. We are told that Bob Shelby is evil, but we are never told how or why. His old secretary appears briefly for the telephone call. For a moment she is the most interesting person in the movie, but she is quickly forgotten. She never calls back and never reappears.
The movie’s packed with some great lines. Marlina D’Amore (Helen Shumaker), one of S & M’s head secretaries, entices Josh for the job by saying, “You go perm and the firm will cover your psychotherapy.” To which Josh replies, “Oh . . . you’re good.” The movie needs more moments likes this. Josh also digresses into a flashback of his job working on the Haiku Tunnel project, in which we catch a glimpse of the kind of comfort he’s looking for. He’s obviously a deep, emotional character, and he should be interesting, but the movie is missing too many essential ingredients. It’s an entertaining concept anchored to weak characters and excessive idiosyncrasies. If you want a movie about finding peace and still having a job, you can do better.

**

K-Pax
Starring: Kevin Spacey, Jeff Bridges
Directed by: Iain Softley

By Kristen Grace

In the consumer culture age, films have become just another product. Forget about artistic vision or even entertainment value; it’s now about sleek packaging-taglines, tie-ins and the all important ad campaign. Studio’s marketing machines test audience response to trailers, TV spots and print ads in search of the perfect promotion strategy. The goal of that work is to make the film look better than it is. In the case of K-PAX it appears the PR team failed to test the tests or they would have discovered that the previews misrepresent the entire tone of the film, presenting a sometimes disturbing story about life as another stale sci-fi comedy.
K-PAX tells the story of Prot (Kevin Spacey, American Beauty) a mysterious stranger who appears at Grand Central Station claiming to be a visitor from the planet K-PAX. The cops pick him up and place him in a psych ward where he encounters every stereotypical mental patient-the germaphobe, the obsessive compulsive, the Blanche Dubois-like delusional, etc. Prot becomes their non-violent Randle McMurphy (Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest), enchanting them with his stories of home and somehow teaching them to help themselves and each other.
At the hospital, Prot falls under the care of Dr. Mark Powell (Jeff Bridges, The Big Lebowski), an acclaimed psychiatrist more devoted to his work than his family. Initially, Dr. Powell believes Prot can be cured with some old-fashioned therapy sessions but he soon realizes even he can’t explain everything. Though he looks like an ordinary guy, Prot can sense ultra-violet light and talk to dogs, and he knows more about K-PAX’s orbital patterns than even the world’s top astro-physicists. His overwhelming abilities and confidence soon have Dr. Powell wondering whether he could be telling the truth.
As their doctor-patient relationship grows closer, blurring the lines between the personal and professional, Prot informs Powell that he will return home on July 27. Dr. Powell believes the date is the key to discovering Prot’s identity and through hypnosis he attempts to uncover the answers before it’s too late. At this point, the film takes on the dark, somber character never once hinted at in the ads and trailers. And it is this drama, when combined with the lightweight comedy, which makes this film work surprisingly well.
The driving force of K-PAX lies in the performances of Spacey and Bridges, two talented actors whose onscreen chemistry transcends the boundaries of an often-confining script. Two-time Oscar winner Kevin Spacey, arguably one of the best actors today, can convincingly play a wide-range of characters from serial killer to crime boss to repressed family man. As Prot, Spacey smirks and deadpans his way through much of the film in a role many actors could have capably filled (including the first choice for Prot, Will Smith).
Spacey’s tremendous abilities finally emerge in the hypnosis sessions, where he brings humanity to the character without resolving the space-man/mad-man dilemma. Few could have walked such a fine line so adeptly.
Dr. Powell is no “Dude,” but Jeff Bridges does what he can in a role that requires him to spend most of the movie sitting behind a desk responding to Prot. He flexes a little acting muscle in the family-centered scenes, but like Spacey, Bridges performs at his best when the story’s tone shifts. As far as the rest of the cast goes, there’s no scene-stealers or memorable characters. They’re there and they do their job, much like the film itself.
There,s nothing remarkable about K-PAX: the story, acting and directing are all good, but standard. I liked the movie, though I’m not sure whether it’s because it is actually good or because, based on what I had seen, I though it was going to be really bad. My advice: expect nothing and you won’t be disappointed.

***

Thursday, November 1
Washington University
Holmes Jazz Series: Kim Portnoy Trio, 8-10pm, FREE, Holmes Lounge
Seeing Ideas: WU School
of Medicine’s Thomas Woosely discusses links between art and science, 7:30pm, free. Steinberg Hall.

Clubs
Cicero’s (6691 Delmar, 862-8600): Abs in the Blind with Fly From August and Sixteen Down
Fat Tuesday (700 N. 2nd, 241-2008): Oliver Twisted
Hi-Pointe (1001 McCausland, 781-4716): Big Fat Love with Cumberland Gap
Mississippi Nights (914 N. 1st, 534-1111): Steve Kimock, 9pm

Exhibits
Componere Gallery: A Toast to
Food, oils, acrylics, and pastel portraits of comfort food by Jennifer Watt & glazed ceramic sculptures and functional works by Ed Dixon, through Nov. 28. 6505 Delmar
Genesis House Gallery: Second Sight, photographs by James Ponder, through Nov. 30. 6018 Delmar
St. Louis Art Museuem: All Around the House:Photographs of American-Jewish Communal Life by Jay Wolke, Tuesday, through Jan. 13. Forest Park, 721-0072

Friday, November 2
Washington University
David Dorfman Dance: Dance St. Louis co-sponsors modern troupe performing “To Lie Tenderly” and “Subverse,” 8pm, $25. Edison Theatre
Ear Aesthetics/Ear Politics: Japan’s Sonic Underground: Talk by Carlow College’s Csaba Toth, 4:15pm, free. Rehearsal Room at the School of Music.

Clubs
Blueberry Hill(6504 Delmar, 727-0880): The Science
Fat Tuesday: Clay Sun Union
Gakaxy (1227 Washington, 534-1111): Subterranean Jack with Opus, 3SC and Calico System
Hi-Pointe: Shame Club with the Valentino Stranglers and the Soccer Moms

Events
Ford Free First Friday Nights: sponsored by Ford Motor Co., showing of Pollock and music by Hudson & Hoodoo Cats, and more activities. 6-9pm, free, St. Louis Art Museum, 721-0072
St. Louis Symphony Orchestra: Hans Vonk conducts pianist Andre Watts in music of Beethoven and Bruckner, 8pm, $10-$85. Powell Symphony Hall, 718 N. Grand, 534-1700

Theater
Betrayal: Hydeware Theatre presents Harold Pinter drama, 7:30pm Fridays-Sundays through Nov. 11, $9,
368-7306. Dignity House, 812 Union
contact: Tony Award-winning John Weidman musical, 8pm, $26-$62. Fox Theatre, 527 N. Grand, 534-1111
Court of Two Wives: The First Divorce of Henry VIII: Historyonics Theatre Co. presents Pamela Sterling drama, 8pm Fridays and Saturdays, and 2:30pm Sundays, through Nov. 18, $15, 746-4445 for tickets. Missouri History Museum.

Saturday, November 3
Washington University
David Dorfman Dance: 8pm,Edison Theatre

Concerts
Blueberry Hill: Lisa Loeb, 9pm, $15
Pageant (6161 Delmar, 421-4400): Paint the Earth with Shrinking Violets and Fly From August

Clubs
Cicero’s: Cloud Nine with Notice Co. and Virus
Fat Tuesday: Sellout
Galaxy: Anniversary with Mars Volta and the Mates of State
Hi-Pointe: Idle with Solartrance, Insight and Unstrung
Mississippi Nights: Javier Mendoza Band

Events
St. Louis Symphony
Orchestra: 8pm, Powell Symphony Hall

Theater
Betrayal: 7:30pm, Dignity House
contact: 2 and 8pm, Fox Theatre
Court of Two Wives: The First Divorce of Henry VIII, 8pm, Missouri History Museum

Sunday, November 4
Washington University
David Dorfman Dance: 2pm, Edison Theatre
Songwriters’ Forum and Workshop, 4pm, free, 935-0047 (for info).
Friedman Lounge

Concerts
Mississippi Nights: Verve Pipe, 8pm, $10-$12

Clubs
Blueberry Hill: Rising Stars 2001
Cicero’s: More Like Winter, with Open Mic

Events

St. Louis Symphony Orchestra: 3pm, Powell Symphony Hall

Theater
Betrayal: 7:30pm, Dignity House
contact: 2 and 7:30pm, Fox Theatre
Court of Two Wives: The First Divorce of Henry VIII, 2pm, Missouri History Museum

Monday, November 5
Washington University
School of Architecture Lecture Series: Bryan Bell, 7pm, free. Steinberg Hall

Clubs
Cicero’s: Jeff Lash Trio, with Acid Jazz Experiment
Hi-Pointe: Bonhomme with Smokstik and Benny B

Tuesday, November 6
Concerts
Mississippi Nights: King’s X with Moke, 8:30pm, $13-$15.

Clubs
Galaxy: Juliana Theory with Further Seems Forever and
Chonsky
Hi-Pointe: Armature, with Kid Tested Mother Approved, Japanese Cat Food and the Yorktown Heroes

Events
When the World Spoke Arabic: The Golden Age of Arab
Civilization: Live music by Farshid Soltanhahi and Middl Eastern food, followed by two short documentary films, 6:30pm, free. Missouri History Museum.

Lectures/Literary Events
Reeve Lindbergh: Author of No More Words: A Journal of My Mother, Anne Morrow Lindbergh discusses and signs her work, 7pm, free. Missouri History Museum

Wednesday, November 7
Concerts
Galaxy: Poe with Think of England, $15
Mississippi Nights: Eagle Eye Cherrywith Leona Naess
Pageant: Moe, $16

Clubs
Cicero’s: Mississippi Drift with Lo
Faber Band
Creepy Crawl: Welt

Domestic Disturbance
John Travolta. Vince Vaughn. Steve Buscemi. If this film, about a father who finds out his son’s new stepdad is a killer, was at all good, chances are you would have seen something about it besides late night previews on cable. Don’t let the cast fool you; it’s not even worth a rental. At the Esquire.

Life as a House
Contrary to what the name suggests, this is a movie about the life of a man, one George Monroe (Kevin Kline). Fired from his job and dying of cancer, George finally decides to build his dream house in the hopes of repairing his relationship with his estranged son before it’s too late (sob, sob). FYI (for those who don’t read the Star Wars website) the rebellious son is played by the new Annakin Skywalker.

Monsters, Inc.
It’s about time this over-hyped film came out! Monsters, Inc., the latest from the Toy Story team, features the voices of Billy Crystal and John Goodman as Mike and Sully as two of the monsters that live under kids’ beds. This movie takes you behind the scenes of the monster-scaring business to the world lurking beyond the closet door. At the Esquire

The One
A supernatural action film starring martial-arts
expert Jet Li. Li travels through multiple dimensions fighting his evil double (from another reality) who is on a quest to kill him. If you love all martial arts films, you’ll love this. If you don’t, chances are this won’t be the one to change your mind.

Va Savoir
French romantic comedy about an actress named Camille who returns home to Paris for the first time in three years to star in the play As You Desire. In case any of my History of World Cinema classmates read this, the film was directed by French New Wave filmmaker Jacques Rivette. Maybe I’m a big dork, but I thought that was kind of cool. At Plaza Frontenac

Bela Fleck and the Flecktones
“Throwdown at the Hoedown”
You can call this a jam band, but listening to the tense, funky theme and the crisp, elegant solos, none of the negatives of jam bands-overlong improvs, bland melodies-come even remotely to mind. Mixing jazzy virtuosity with the infectious energy of a Missourah hoedown, Fleck and company add another delicious tune to their remarkable repertoire.

Scapegoat Wax
“Aisle 10 (Hello Allison)”
Even if the Beastie Boys stopped putting out party music, they didn’t stop discovering talented torch-bearers for their Grand Royal label (sadly, recently defunct). The eclectic sound of Scapegoat Wax mastermind Marty James marries soulful, G. Love-style guitars with a thick groove of organs, thumping bass and anxious drums. His smirking lyrics narrate a ridiculous story of convenience store love-at-first-sight, with the DJ commenting, as if over an intercom “We need some help in aisle ten.”

The Beatles
“Because”
Sometimes it’s soothing to hear the voices of people on a different plane of existence. Whatever kind of acid the Fab Four were tripping when they recorded this, it didn’t prevent them from melding some truly gorgeous vocal harmonies. Who could feel tense after hearing Lennon and McCartney gushing, “aaaaaaahhh, becaaause the wooorld is round, it turns me ooooooon, becaaaause the woooorld is roooooooouuund, aaaaaaah.”

Frederic Chopin
“Ballade no. 1 in G”

Chopin was the master of wrenchingly tender, dazzlingly virtuosic solo piano music and this, from a collection of four ballades, is one of his true masterpieces. It conveys melancholy, triumph and indecision in its lilting chords, its cascades of shimmering notes and its brooding, low-register rumbles. In the right hands (i.e. thos of Artur Rubinstein), it’s one of the highlights of 19th century piano music.

Oysterhead
The grand Pecking Order
(Elektra)

by Taylor Upchurch

How many bands have ever formed whose members were all famous before they released their first song? Thanks to Phish guitarist Trey Anastasio, Primus bassist Les Claypool, and Police drummer Stewart Copeland, we now have one truly interesting experiment to ponder. On paper, Oysterhead should be the greatest thing to happen to the world since Cream.
But of course they don’t make the records on paper, they make them on little plastic discs, which makes everything way too complicated. Early reports have Oysterhead covering Hendrix in their live shows, suggesting their sights are set on bona fide super-trio status. There’s enough talent between these three guys to kill a moose, but any all-star tribute album ever made will remind you that there are no guarantees in life.
Oysterhead’s first effort, The Grand Pecking Order, doesn’t answer any of the questions posed in this discussion, but it shows enough promise to have some Phish-heads temporarily stop clamoring for a reunion tour, which is significant promise indeed.
A bassist, especially one of Claypool’s caliber, will usually set the musical rules, so the Oysterhead sound represents more of Anastasio catering to Claypool than vice versa. Anastasio at times struggles to sneak in even a four-measure solo around Claypool’s big, commanding bass. At the same time, the songs penned by Anastasio are quite obviously Anastasio songs, giving the album a predictably disjointed feel.
Meanwhile, Copeland’s drumming is solid, especially on “Little Faces” and “Army’s on Ecstasy,” but he never really grabs center stage.
Oysterhead’s personality is still a work in progress, mostly because Claypool’s wackiness overshadows everything else. It’s tough to know what to make of the politically tinged “Shadow of a Man,” “Army’s on Ecstasy,” and “Wield the Spade,” all of which would have much more gravitas if they weren’t coming to you through Claypool’s weasel of a voice.
The album goes down much easier when you don’t take it seriously, the case in point being the cartoonish (and quite funky) “Mr. Oysterhead.” If they really want to rule the world, though, they’ll have to find a way to sound a lot more serious than they come across here.
The Grand Pecking Order contains some hits (especially “Mr. Oysterhead” and the Bela Fleck-y “Birthday Boys”) and some misses (“Wield the Spade,” “Polka Dot Rose”). It’s equal parts Phish and Primus, and it’ll probably take another album or two before we get an idea of what Oysterhead is actually going to sound like.

***

Sex Mob
Does Bond
(Atlantic)

by David Pinzur

Any band that calls itself Sex Mob would seem to be desparate for attention. But behind the gimmicky title lies a technically accomplished jazz quartet with a taste for delightfully quirky pop-culture homages.
Their first two albums were replete with wonderfully bastardized covers of artists as diverse as Nirvana, ABBA, and Prince, which married pure entertainment with the group’s stunning musicality.
Their third and latest, Sex Mob Does Bond, goes one step further, devoting an entire album to the music of James Bond films.
This isn’t the first time that Sex Mob has dipped into the realm of Bond music; the first album Din of Inequity, featured the themes to both Goldfinger and Live and Let Die.
But on Does Bond, most of the tracks covered are “incidental” (background) music culled largely from three early Bond films: Goldfinger, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, and From Russia with Love.
This album exhibits classic Sex Mob style: “007” sounds like it could be a Steven Bernstein, funky jazz original, while “Bond With Bongos” is a perfect example of the Mob taking a song and gleefully twisting it into their own odd creation.
The group dynamic shines, with bassist Tony Scherr and drummer Kenny Wollesen lay ing down thick grooves underneath Briggan Krauss’ powerful alto tone and Steve Bernstein’s deft slide trumpet. And as an added bonus, fellow downtowner, organist John Medeski, lends a hand on several tracks.
With Does Bond, Sex Mob has produced yet another innovative, inspiring, and fun album. Because who said jazz should be so damn serious, anyway?

***

Cranberries
Wake Up and Smell the Coffee
(MCA)

by Nicole Leist

Witness the stunning songwriting of the new Cranberries album: “I have a dream, strange as it may seem/it was my perfect day/open my eyes I realize, it is my perfect day/do do do, do do do, do do do.” Unfortunately, for everyone but the most diehard of fans, it’s time to wake up and hate these crappy lyrics.
With Dolores O’Riordan’s lovely voice backdropped by a talented rhythm section, the Cranberries have produced some solid albums of lyrical, dreamy pop, including the hits “Dream,” “Linger,” and the harder-hitting “Zombie.”
Sadly, their new album manages to keep only fragments of their best elements-O’Riordan’s lilting voice, and beautiful musical texturing-and to violate it with some of the cheesiest, crappiest, most banal lyrics in existence.
This is truly the stuff of grade school poetry: “Come here my lover, something’s on your mind/ Listen to no other, they could be unkind.”
One track, appropriately called “Dying Inside,” uses the phrase “terrible thing, it was a terrible thing to see her dying” six times in a 3 minute track whose moral lesson is, “the lady loved her gold, the lady lost her soul.”
And perhaps the real tragedy is that with decent lyrics, Wake Up could have been a terrific album. In fact, if the album had simplybeen recorded in another language, it would have probably turned out beautifully.
When O’Riordan croons on “Time is ticking out,” “I need the oxygen, I need the oxygen/for me love is all/ to do do do,” the listener feels an overwhelming urge to throw the lady a frigging gas mask. If the Cranberries are having trouble coming up with song ideas, they should do a covers album or take a sabbatical or something. Just dear Lord, protect us all from such songs as “Carry On,” where we are advised to, “take destiny by the hand and lead it far away/take it to another land, we will all decay.”

** 1/2

If you could take just one sixty-minute tape to a deserted island, what songs would you put on it?

Harry Chapin
“A Better Place to Be”
from Greatest Stories Live

I’m a huge Harry Chapin fan and this long story song about a night watchman’s search for love is one of the best of the genre. There’s also a studio version, but the live take gives you a glimpse of what Harry did best-engage an audience like a filmmaker.

Thelonious Monk
“Round Midnight”
from ‘Round Midnight

For my money, there’s not a jazz standard with a more beautiful melody. There are a few good versions of this, including one by Bobby McFerrin from the Round Midnight movie soundtrack and even a vocal version by Linda Ronstadt, but it’s best to go to the source and just listen to Monk play it.

Nat King Cole
“Route 66”
from Unforgettable

This is just one of my favorite pop-jazz songs ever, featuring Cole’s wonderful vocal chops and his often-overlooked piano skills. It’s a fun song that would remind me of home: “Well you go through St. Louie.”

Rich Mullins
“If I Stand”
from Winds of Heaven, Stuff of Earth

Something for my spiritual side. This is my favorite song from one of Christian music’s most respected contemporary songwriters who died way too young. On the island, this song would be a reminder that I’m still not alone.

Jim Croce
“You Don’t Mess Around with Jim”
from You Don’t Mess Around with Jim

This is a fun song from one of my first musical heroes. It has a great rootsy, bluesy foundation and words that make you want to smile and paint a picture.

Steve Goodman
“A Dying Cub Fan’s Last Request”
from Affordable Art

I love baseball, funny songs and the thought of the Cubs losing yet again. This song from the late-great Chicago songwriter Steve Goodman has it all and would keep me grinning during those long days on the island.

Janis Joplin
“Me and Bobby McGee”
from Pearl

Lots of folks have recorded this classic written by Kris Kristofferson, but no one did it with the guts and passion of Janis.

Louis Armstrong
“What a Wonderful World”
from What a Wonderful World

If there’s anything better than listening to Satchmo play the trumpet it’s listening to him singing and playing the trumpet. I know this one has been played to death but I still like it and it makes me smile and it’s my island.

Judy Garland
“Somewhere Over the Rainbow”
from The Wizard of Oz Soundtrack

She recorded it a few times during her short life, but nothing captured it quite like the soundtrack original. Here’s Judy before the drugs and alcohol kicked in and took over. Her voice was never better than this.

The Quintet of the Hot Club de France
with Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappeli
“Minor Swing”
from Nuages

They swing, they’re hot, they’re dead.

What:

A star-studded concert of up and coming, underground rap talents.

Who:

MC Eyedea, the freestyle phenom who won HBO’s prestigious Blaze Battle competition, underground group Atmosphere, and others.

Where:

The Gargoyle.

When:

This Sunday, November 4 at 8 P.M.

Admission is free with a Washington University ID, $7 for everyone else.