Covered in Vitamins

I've long been fascinated/repulsed by the weird little cottage industry built by Vitamin Records. They're the folks who put out those cheapie instrumental tributes to just about every popular musician you can think of. I recently heard their Iron Maiden string quartet album, and like Apocalyptica's reading of Metallica, some of it's okay. A good song is a good song, but sometimes delivery really counts. "Run To the Hills" does not really work as a neoclassical piece because it's dependent on the vocals; "Sad But True" doesn't work because it's a boring, monotonous song in the first place.

Sure, your favorite classic rockers are probably represented in Vitamin's efforts, but there's a lot of weird stuff in their catalogue. Some are obviously made with overseas markets in mind, or Brit-loved acts like Muse, Jet, Snow Patrol or Dido probably wouldn't warrant the treatment. A handful of the orchestral tributes could be really interesting if done well: Sonic Youth, Massive Attack, Slayer, The Smiths, Björk, Jeff Buckley, Jane's Addiction, The Roots and - my favorite - an entire, in-order rerecording of The Mars Volta's "De-Loused In the Comatorium." Less populous but no less bizarre are Vitamin's tributes in other styles such as swing, lounge or electronic. Reputable jazz musicians taking on Beck, "indie rock" Usher covers, Michael Jackson doing the jitterbug and bachelor-pad OutKast all seem intriguing, although somehow Vitamin's attempt to present non-Beatles Lennon/McCartney compostions as if the Fab Four recorded them has actually been done already.

Naturally, most of the choices seem hilariously wrong, including Jessica Simpson, Mudvayne, Simple Plan, 2Pac, or Clay Aiken. Why does someone need a mellower version of Yanni songs? Or dub treatments of Linkin Park's treacle? Jesus God, a piano tribute to Korn??? True, I personally dislike all of the tributees previously named in this paragraph, but my reaction isn't just the music snob in me talking. Some things just can't translate well. From a headbanger's standpoint, while Morbid Angel's dissonant lurchfests might work well, Lamb of God's slash-and-thrash attack would certainly not. No matter how much trauma my last live encounter with the band has come to signify, deep down I enjoy the Pixies. Yet I shudder to imagine how lame their Vitamin string quartet tribute sounds.

On the other hand, I have a pretty low tolerance for No Doubt, but I'd listen to an instrumental surf rock band covering them. The orchestra-lite treatment might make Atreyu somewhat heavier, or Dashboard Confessional even more overbearingly maudlin. Black Sabbath done lounge-style might be okay as long if only there were no vocals - I've already heard Pat Boone and Richard Cheese, thank you. All I know is, no one has any business paying tribute to Yellowcard, Jennifer Lopez or Disturbed. No one.

And now for a classic cover: Voivod doing Pink Floyd's "Astronomy Domine" - R.I.P. Piggy.

Honky, look out!

Time for another round of recent movie viewings. No Spanish art films, no Rachel McAdams vehicles... nothing but vintage genre trash this week. Hooray!

"The Black Six": As in, they're black, and there are six of them. Bikers, wouldn't ya know. And they're played by a bunch of off-season '70s NFL pros, including "Mean" Joe Greene and five dudes I might have heard of if I had any interest in sports. Vintage blaxploitation shenanigans go down when the brother of one of these guys gets killed by a racist cracker bike gang. just for dating a white girl. As far as these things go, it's not particularly outrageous or memorable. In fact the best part is also the worst part - the "we're driving around" scenes go on FOREVER, but it's only then that you can hear the funky theme song complete with its bad-ass horn line. The ending, which involves every Johnny Reb biker in the area showing up to throw flares at our heroes, is abrupt and ridiculous.

"Syngenor": This is one I remember my old buddy Funk Dracula talking about back in the day. It stars the great David Gale of "Re-Animator" fame in his final screen appearance, and he really hams it up as an evil industrialist whose company developed the titular supersoldier beasties. Their name, cleverly, stands for SYNthesized GENetic ORganism, and of course when unleashed they will suck all of our spinal fluid and pose a great threat to blah blah blah. Gale's pretty great, but the creatures are the best part, since you get to see enough of them and cause some solid carnage here and there. The costumes, although very cool, are left over from a movie called "Scared To Death," which is only remembered by those who have built a (very) minor cult around "Syngenor." Me, I wouldn't be surprised if it came out ol' Syngie is related to The Beast from "Krull." Need evidence?
"Death of a Ninja" (aka "Ninja Wars"/"Iga Ninpo-cho"): "The Street Fighter" hero Sonny Chiba has a bit role in this, another bizarro winner from that famous 50-pack of Jack's. Today Chiba's probably best known in the West for "Kill Bill," in which he played Hattori Hanzo, also the name of a character in this film who is not played by Chiba. Confused? Welcome to the loony world of fantasy martial arts movies, where it's often assumed that every viewer has a PhD in pan-Asian history. This one's got hot twin sisters who get their heads switched, lasers shooting out of eyes, reincarnating demon monks (one's vomit explodes upon impact!), questionable nudity and beheadings with long takes of blood spraying from the stumps, GWAR-style. Quality all around.

Jamming frequently: new Hypocrisy, God Forbid, The Number 12 Looks Like You, Consequence and Code.

Ignis Fatuu-ass

I'm happy to report that things seem much nicer this side of 30 so far. Even the weather has been absolutely lovely. There was a slight chill a few days ago that smelled like autumn, which always makes me feel warm. It makes me feel like Halloween season is almost here.

There's even a new Helloween single, although I won't link to the video because, truthfully, the song's not that hot. I'll reserve judgement until I hear the whole thing, but "Mrs. God" is one of five strikes against the upcoming album. Since I'm sure you don't care, let me recount the others:

1. There's another line-up change - they stole a drummer from Rawhead Rexx, and now there's two guys in the band who end their first name with an "i." Crazy Germans.
2. It's a double CD that clocks in at less than 80 minutes. They once put out a live double CD that could also have fit on a single disc if they shaved off a minute of crowd cheers. What's with the extra plastic?
3. The lyrics on the last album were mostly terrible. This is coming from someone who always found Helloween's garbled English endearing, and who's put up with a lot of mad pumpkin nonsense over the years.
4. It's got "Keeper of the Seven Keys" in the title to piggyback the fame of their most revered albums - which came out 17 and 18 years ago.
My fucked-up tattoo says that if they know what's good for them, it totally better not suck. Meanwhile, if you want to hear some truly good new power metal, you can download the best song from the otherwise disappointingly bland new Falconer album right here. How fortuitous!

The sad state of power metal aside, everything is dandy. For the moment. Gotta admit, it's kind of weird, but I'm not arguing with it. Why don't you go out and celebrate the waning summer indoors - go see "The Aristocrats" if you have a non-AMC theater around. I think you get to see Carrot Top's ass at the end, although I thankfully can't confirm this because when I saw it the projector was misaligned for most of the end credits.

Re-introduce yourself (right on)

Today is my 30th birthday, so I thought this would be a good time to post something of a statement of intent for this blog, which I didn't do when I started it in June. Here goes:

Hello. My name is SoulReaper. That's not my Christian name, obviously... I chose it for my blogging name because it was already my Blabbermouth handle. It's the name of the last full-length song on the last Dissection album, "Storm of the Light's Bane", which is among my personal top ten of all time. I chose this name because it's a beautiful song, not because I approve of the Satanic gibberings or infamous actions of band leader Jon Nödtveidt. In fact, since I was a huge fan of his music before the horrific details of his private life become public, Dissection remains my greatest personal conflict in separating someone's art from their personal character.

The name of this blog, "Entartete Kunst," means "degenerate art" in German. It most directly refers to an initiative within the Nazi movement to debase any art which clashed with the Third Reich's ideals. Basically, works of a modern, abstract, non-classicist nature were deemed dangerous to the atavistic culture the Nazis were trying to inject into Germany, especially works by any non-Aryan (read: Jewish) artists. I selected this name for my blog for two reasons. First, I think it's a powerful example of what can happen when a society allows a temporarily dominant mindset to dictate what is and isn't good for the whole of that society. Second, the sorts of art in which I find the greatest meaning and interest are often those ignorantly derided by those in power - "liberals" and "conservatives" alike - as somehow degenerate, or harmful to the greater good.

My interests are not extremely confined, but I tend to prefer horror movies and heavy metal, transgressive venues of artistic expression typically scorned as the domain of emotionally turbulent teenage boys who wear too much black. Yes, I was one of those, and to some extent still am. But like any nerd worth his fan club card, I consider myself a bit of a historian and aesthete of each, frequently searching for both arcane, overlooked classics and current, forward-thinking creations. To a person who takes such "degenerate art" seriously, the imagery, concepts and tactics of even the most banal horror movies and heavy metal can be insightful or enjoyable, while any corruption of those core emotional values in the name of commerce is viewed with outright hostility. In my eyes, our society's worst influences come from sickeningly insincere board room products such as "Jeepers Creepers 2" or Limp Bizkit.

Above all, this blog is intended as a personal platform, as many others are. It is my forum for praising, bitching, informing or otherwise sharing what's been happening inside my head with anyone who cares to know. I don't think random people will come a-surfin' to it very often, and thus it is always intended for those friends and family who would ask, "Boy, I wonder what SoulReaper's up to?" I am assuming that if you've read this far, you're one of those. Thank you! I hope you enjoy reading my spew. You can always expect honesty here, even if it's of the uncomfortable kind. I undertand that it's possible that I'll say something that offends you on a personal level, and should that happen, you should feel free to take it up with me.

The other purpose of this blog is as a makeshift archive of reviews I've written. As you might be able to see, I have revamped all the old posts so that you may now read all of the reviews - the link will take you to the comments, where I've posted uncensored "writer's cut" versions of my opinionated drivel. I will do this from now on, starting with this piece on "Catch Without Arms" by Dredg.

Please visit as often as you like. I like to read your comments.

Trigentennial pissings

OK, I got some good ideas. Yes, Laura, I will certainly have a beer, probably several. (And thank you!) No, Kyle, I will not kidnap Tom's brainchild like a slavering dingo. J.Ko - unfortunately, I'm just not that much of a gambler, and they've doubled the price of "Showgirls of Magic" since I was last in town. No, it's going to be the suggestions from Al and the mysterious "anonymous" that I think I'll synthesize into this post. Reflecting upon one's past decade is a cinch for a navel-gazer like myself. Here are the ten most significant things I've come to understand since I turned 20, all of which should be painfully obvious to you.

10. Be it a broken furnace or a broken heart, Piranha is never the solution. (In addition to being a classic Exodus song, Piranha's also an apparently defunct Brazilian liqueur flavored with the kola nut... it kept me warm many a night, and there appears to be no information about it anywhere on the internet.)

9. Scandinavians - especially Swedes - are metallically superior beings.

8. There are more humans on this planet every year, and with them, more diversity, more individuality and more potential for fresh ideas. But more humans also means more marginalization, more isolation and more potential terrorists.

7. Nice guys don't always finish last, but they do tend to finish in the bottom percentile.

6. When partying hard on the Reeperbahn, be wary of invitations for seafood from unfamiliar bottle blondes - and if you're staying several miles away, remember that the rail line shuts down at midnight.

5. Perseverance and resignation are not necessarily all that different, and it's occasionally possible to reach the same goal by employing either.

4. A viable, reasonably reliable weight-loss plan is readily available which does not involve sweating, vomiting or consuming anything designated "lo-fat."

3. There are probably aspects of your upbringing about which you are better not knowing.

2. If there is no struggle, there is no progress.

1. You can care about someone with all your heart for as long as you like, but that doesn't mean they'll ever give a shit. (I have the next decade to figure out whether you should let that stop you.)

Vibration of my thoughts

Well, I spoke too soon. Just when it seemed everyone was having a shitty week but me, I got screwed out of seeing Gigantour. Internet gripes that Dave Mustaine's alternative to Ozzfest is an incredibly unorganized venture do not seem unfounded - the schedule was unclear, and had I actually been on the publicity list as promised, I still would have missed the bands I actually wanted to see. After a lot of hassle, I canceled the story I was writing and headed home. But, hey, it's negligible. At least I got the day off of work, right?

Saw an astonishingly decent zombie cheapie yesterday: J.R. Bookwalter's "The Dead Next Door". Plenty of effort (if not funds) went into it, and it pays off with with lots and lots of gore, some of it really good, and a decent sense of humor. It wasn't a surprise on the order of "Hell of the Living Dead", but then, it's not Italian. I've long decided that I've already seen all the great zombie movies, but pleasant lowbrow discoveries like this justify the effort to see 'em all.

In an effort to get someone, anyone to post a reply on this stupid blog, I'm taking suggestions about what to do during the last week of my 20s. I turn 30 in exactly one week, so what should I do before then? It's already been suggested by some that I go gambling or that I "bang some hot bitches," but I'm hoping for something more realistic. Otherwise, I'm just going to keep listening to the new Benighted demo over and over; with songs as mesmerizing as this one, it won't be hard...

How you screamed when I saw your eyes melting

I tell you, it's like the world's gone batshit nuts. And for once, I feel as if my relatively stagnant state is more a strength than a liability. Sure, things aren't the best, but it's been a while since I begged St. Jude for intercessions. Now I'm all about St. John and his wort. Folks, that's some good wort!

I like going to the movies by myself: I can see whatever I want, whenever I want. Done it twice recently. First, I saw Miranda July's "Me and You and Everyone We Know". It's a quiet little ensemble piece about messed-up people flailing to make connections, perfect for fans of things like "Magnolia" and "Happiness." (Did you know that there are people out there who find such films depressing? For shame!) July's a performance artist by trade, so it might be natural that the movie comes off as flaky and self-conscious at times, but that becomes part of its oddball charm. Since the American public only seems capable of noticing one or two indie movies a year, I hope this one doesn't get passed over. As long as you don't mind a little arthouse atmosphere, I equally recommend it if you're a hard-nosed cynic or, even better, a hopeless romantic. ))<>(( Forever.

Also, I finally saw "The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl In 3-D" at the second-run in Buffalo Grove. That was $2 well spent - the 3-D was as shoddy as it was in "Spy Kids 3-D," but when you think about the movie's origins (Robert Rodriguez based it on his 7 year-old kid's stories and dreams and made it in the studio at his house), it's a pretty fun picture. Of course, it's no "Sin City", but after a movie that good I cannot help but fully support Rodriguez's DIY path. I'd rather give him money to make crazy-ass home movies like this than to return to studio garbage like "The Faculty."

Today, Gigantour, where The Dillinger Escape Plan will scare the bejeezus out of a bunch of mullet-heads. That will be entertaining - that and the best metal band in America, Nevermore. I wrote this review of their new album - it's a three-and-a-half star record, but star ratings are pointless. And sometime I'll get around to updating those blog links...

Media round-up

Another batch of entertainment-y bites. Lucky you.

I interviewed rapper and former Adult Swim renaissance man MC Chris. You may know him better as MC Pee Pants, who gave us the immortal "I Want Candy". Yes, I have his cell phone number. No, you cannot have it. But if you go to his site, he lets you download his first disc for free (in the "listen" section). If you have a sense of humor and any tolerance for backpacker/suburban hip-hop, you will be hooked and want the others.

Hey, wanna buy a ProgPower ticket? Yes, I entered the world of eBay sales just to get rid of this $100 beauty. I was really looking forward to seeing Manticora and especially Orphaned Land. But as mentioned before, I will now set my sights on a much less "cheerful" mini-fest, an autumn evening in Toronto with Green Carnation and Woods of Ypres and goddamned Agalloch, those wonderfully snooty Oregon isolationists who obviously refuse to play in Chicago.

A few weeks ago, a co-worker gave me a stack of sleazy video tapes that I've been somewhat leery of viewing. The same person has funneled a number of questionable titles my way over the years, apparently the cast-off fruits of an ongoing search for the most reprehensibly anti-female film ever made. Why this cinéaste thinks I would want these is beyond me. I love gore and nudity and taboo subject matter, but as I've said to this co-worker many times, I draw the line at glorifying rape or sexual violence. This batch contained (in what I assume to be descending order of creepiness): the unrated version of the Shannon Tweed softcore romp "Sexual Response", Jose Larraz's "Violation of the Bitch", a Brazilian WIP jobber called "Bare Behind Bars", Florinda "Flavia" Bolkan in "La Settima Donna" and the loathesome-looking "Fantom Kiler 2". Whee! Think I'll shelve these with my unwatched copy of "Trilogy of Lust 2"...

Ever wanted a tasty dish that also helps combat heartburn?

Of course you have! Move over, Choco-Beef! Eat a fat dick, Carmo-Broc! Begone, The Dunston List!

Herein, I submit selections from my forthcoming "Gentleman's Guide To Cooking With Pepto-Bismol." (Royalties to be shared with co-creators Andrew and Tom Patch.) Killer Foods may distribute some of these to your local supermarket. Ready-to-eat dinners for overstressed folks on the go? Killer!



Pepto-Crusted BBQ Baby Back Ribs
Macaroni and Chee-Zee Bismol
Buffalo Chick'n Gobblers with Ranch-Bismol Dippin' Sauce
Aunt Mildred's Gooey-Ooey Pepto-Walnut Brownie Bars
Pepto-Pressed Duck
Salad Niçois with Mint-Bismol Dressing
Frito-Pepto-Cheddar Pie
Burst's "Crystal Asunder" Shrimp Bismol Dumplings
Beefy Chile Con Bismol
Peach and Pepto Frangipane Tart
Pan-Seared Lake Bismol Trout with Mint Yogurt Sauce
Orzo with Pepto and Arugula
Cold Pepto and Cabbage Borscht
Lil' Bismol Poppers
Barley, Leek and Pepto Bisque
Orange Beef Stir-Fry with Bismol Sauce Over Steamed Rice
Pepto-Flavored Baked Lo-Fat Tato Crisps
Dakota Blend Bismol Chai Tea

That's right, honey! Pink's not just the world's hottest pop singer anymore!

Iron Malden's gonna get you

How are you? I'm freaking bushed. Other than transcribing and cobbling together an interview with MC Chris for Friday, I covered Ozzfest on Saturday. Read about it here, prefaced by a review of the new As I Lay Dying product. Our free seats were amazing - I haven't been that close to Iron Maiden since I first saw them at age 15, and that includes club shows during the Blaze Bayley "lean years." It was almost 12 hours of roasting skin, guzzling lukewarm water and rocking ass under the hot Willennium sun, this after a late night with The Olivia Tremor Control on Friday. So I'm a little concerted-out at the moment.

At least until Gigantour. Then ProgPower, if I'm even still going. And just in case that trip falls through and I somehow sell my ticket, the back-up plan is the Day of the Equinox, the lineup of which is so aligned with my current taste and mood it's as if I booked it myself. It's possibly a great trip: I could finally see Agalloch while investigating proper steps for defection to Canada, as my reasons to become an expatriate expand daily...

Ah, yet another controversy-free post, courtesy of Unexpect's "Novaë". Kisses.