The Best of the Best (Albums)

Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes (Sub Pop)

Yeah, this seems like an obvious choice, but it’s also a damn good one.  I’m always up for listening to good vocal harmonies, and this band has them in spades.  The music is gorgeous to boot, and is a highly engaging blend of folk titans like CSNY, America, and early ’70s Fleetwood Mac.  The vocal round of “White Winter Hymnal” is worth the price of admission by itself.  And as a bonus, I’ve seen enough live clips of material from this album to witness that its beauty is not just the result of studio trickery.

Metallica - Death Magnetic (Warner Bros.)

You can accuse me of falling for the hype if you want, but this is an excellent album.  While it’s not enough to make me throw away my copy of Master of Puppets, it’s certainly strong enough to make me forget the group’s creatively dry Load era.  There’s a touch of filler present, but tracks like “All Nightmare Long” and “My Apocalypse” stack up against the best material Metallica has ever produced.  And most importantly of all, the group is once again relevant to the world of metal.

The only bummer regarding Death Magnetic is the craptastic mixing/mastering job, which like far too many modern albums is compressed to the point of being physically uncomfortable to listen to.  Fortunately there is relief in the form of an alternate mix produced for the Guitar Hero video game, which was widely distributed over torrent sites.  I’m not advocating that sort of downloading of course, but let’s just say it’s far superior to the officially released version.

School of Language - Sea From Shore (Thrill Jockey)

Whether or not Field Music ever reconvenes under that name is sort of irrelevant since Peter and David Brewis, the creative energy behind Field Music, seem to be carrying the torch of top-notch English pop/rock as if nothing had changed.  Witness David’s first release as School of Language, a slightly more understated but still masterfully executed piece of pop bliss.

The Week That Was - The Week That Was (Memphis Industries)

Speaking of the brothers Brewis, August was Peter’s turn to knock one out of the park and he did with the self-titled debut from The Week That Was.  It’s a denser and darker journey than Sea From Shore, but no less rewarding.  Taking musical cues from early ’80s Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush, Brewis has delivered one of the most satisfying and sadly overlooked releases of the year.

Russian Circles - Station (Suicide Squeeze)

You’d think that an album of metal instrumentals, averaging seven minutes in length, would not be particularly interesting or rewarding.  You would be wrong.  There is a craftsmanhip evident on Station that belies the fact that it’s only the band’s second album.  It sounds like thoroughly modern metal, but it feels vintage.

Randy Newman - Harps and Angels (Nonesuch)

2008 was the year I finally hopped on the Randy Newman bandwagon, and Harps and Angels played a large part in that change.  No longer is he just the guy from those Family Guy bits or the man I blame for a bunch of schlocky Pixar music.  Well, he still is a little.  But I’ve connected with his top-notch lyricism and easy-going, modernized New Orleans-style blues piano, which are in full flower on this record.  Newman thrives when he has nice, big targets for his cynicism, and he has plenty of material to work with here (from the Supreme Court to the Bush administration to their hypocritical pop music critics).  But the tender moments are just as effective, and songs like “Losing You” and “Feels LIke Home” will undoubtedly stand the test of time.

Dengue Fever - Venus on Earth (M80)

I predicted back in April that this would make my year-end list, and I called it (funny how that works).  This off-kilter blend of Cambodian lounge pop and psychedelia is one of the oddest albums to win my heart.  It was also good enough to get the attention of Peter Gabriel, who decided to distribute it on his Real World imprint.  It would be easy to focus your attention on the spellbinding vocals of Cambodia’s own Chhom Nimol, but the catchy musical arrangements are the real star of this effort.  Venus on Earth swings, it grooves, and it captivates.

Danilo Pérez - Across the Crystal Sea (Verve)

I was turned on to this release by the JazzPortraits blog (not updated nearly enough for my liking), and it’s a winner.  Pérez’s piano is backed this time by a string section led by the renowned arranger and conductor Claus Ogerman, known to many jazz fans for his work with Bill Evans, Antonio Carlos Jobim, and Diana Krall among others.  It’s a subtle and gossamer work that never slides into the dreaded “easy listening” realm.  Guest vocalist Cassandra Wilson shines on a pair of tracks, “Lazy Afternoon” and “(All of a Sudden) My Heart Sings”.

Goldfrapp - Seventh Tree (Mute)

Seventh Tree is one of those albums that I suspect will only get better with age.  Everything is slightly muted here, from Alison Goldfrapp’s vocals to the arrangements themselves.  But in trading sex appeal and danceability for nuance and delicacy, Goldfrapp has produced their most rewarding album since Felt Mountain.

Build - Build (New Amsterdam)

Recalling at times both the structured and subdued approach of Philip Glass and the sheer musical joy of Penguin Cafe Orchestra, the self-titled debut from Brooklyn’s Build can best be described as classical music for people who hate classical music.  It’s exuberant and poppy but never gimmicky, and I highly recommend it.

Jim Noir - Jim Noir (Barsuk)

The eponymous followup to Noir’s 2006 debut, Tower of Love, finds him mining the same sound as the first time - namely the ’60s salad days of ’60s British pop, Mod, and psychedelia.  The formula worked for Noir (real name Alan Roberts) the first go-around and it certainly works now.  The melodies are not awe-inspiring but the DIY charm still holds; don’t be surprised if you find yourself humming parts of “Don’t You Worry” and “Happy Day Today.”

Next: The best of the rest…

While TO&FS is not nearly as engrossing or rewarding as The Company, it was fun and engaging nonetheless.  Without giving too much of the plot away, the basic story goes like this: A CIA operative named Wanamaker is running an operation (code name Stufftingle) that may or may not be officially sanctioned by the agency, but is confounded by a leak.  To find and stop the leak he brings in a retired and somewhat disgraced former Naval Intelligence officer, one Admiral J. Pepper Toothacher (yes, that’s the name they stick with) and his chauffeur/assistant/math whiz Huxstep.

The leak, as it turns out, is another CIA operative named Silas Sibley (aka The Weeder), who has personal and convuluted reasons for interfering with Wanamaker’s operation.  But he quickly gets in over his head when the Admiral and Huxstep close in on him.  The bulk of the novel details The Weeder’s attempts to save his own hide while still trying to put a stop to Stufftingle.

Had Littell just left it at that, TO&FS would have been a serviceable (albeit unremarkable) work of spy fiction.  But he adds a story device that I rather enjoyed, although some may find it hackneyed.  Sibley, as it happens, is also a Revolutionary War buff.  And not just the war, but one participant in particular, whom he refers to as “Nate.”  Sibley, who claims to be Nate’s descendant, is obsessed with Nate’s life and the circumstances leading to his early death.

As such, the novel alternates between the present and Sibley’s accounts of Nate’s activities during the war.  Nate turns out to be Nathan Hale, widely regarded as America’s first spy.  As the two stories progress, the similarities between Hale and Sibley become more obvious.  The only question is whether the similarities are truth, coincidence, or merely the figment of Sibley’s overactive imagination.

So in truth, TO&FS is as much a work of historical fiction as it is spy fiction.  And for a lot of the book, I was much more interested in Nate’s story than in Sibley’s.  Littell incorporates enough historical fact into Nate’s life to lend it credibility, so the more fanciful portions seem plausible.  The book seems a bit forced toward the end, but wraps up fairly nicely.

So I can recommend this book easily, and look forward to exploring more of Littell’s catalog.

I was just shy of 13 years old when …And Justice for All came out in 1988.  Imagine if I conducted my daily affairs as if I were still in junior high school.  How far do you think I’d get in life?  Not very far, right?  So why is it that it’s perfectly OK for people who grew up, grew older, and matured as people while listening to Metallica seem so unwilling to allow the band to do the same?

OK, I think I’ve made my point.  Now onto Death Magnetic.

Plain and simple, this is a good album.  Very good in fact.  It’s an interesting blend of some of the group’s styles over the years.  A ton of reviewers (myself included) have already noted that it’s sort of a hybrid between the straightforward, melodic riffs of The Black Album and the complex, pseudo-prog structures of …And Justice for All.

There’s an abundance of vintage thrash rhythms and blistering Kirk Hammett solos, which should please the diehards.  But it’s also got some of the grooves and more moderate tempos found on (gasp!) Load.  They’re blended together in a stew that sometimes tastes hearty and fulfilling, sometimes a bit forced and artificial.

Things start off very strongly, as “This Was Just Your Life” and “The End of the Line” showcase all that Metallica has learned over the years.  A cynic would accuse them of plagiarizing themselves on these and other songs, but I don’t look at it that way.  A lot of this music draws on the best of the band’s earlier incarnations and shows them doing familiar things in a new way.

I love the mix of vintage thrash and modern groove on “Broken, Beat & Scarred” and “The End of the Line.”  I appreciate how most of the songs here, averaging at about the 7-minute mark, at least feel like they merit the length.  By contrast, one of the major weaknesses of St. Anger was a lack of editing.  More than a few times I found myself saying, “enough already!” on that album.

Alas, this is not a perfect album by any means.  Fans may bristle at the many similarities between both the song sequence and structure on Death Magnetic.  Yup, “The Day That Never Comes” is a close cousin of “Fade to Black.”  And producer Rick Rubin’s decision to take a more natural approach to recording the always inconsistent Lars Ulrich’s drums backfires on occasion.  As is usually the case, the bass guitar is buried fairly deep in the mix.  New bassist Robert Trujillo’s presence is more felt than heard.

And lastly, this is not a uniformly strong effort.  The second half in particular is weaker than the first, save for the superb “Cyanide” and “My Apocalypse”.  Death Magnetic is definitely front-loaded, but the strength of that material is more than enough to compensate for the rest.  Sure it’s not Master of Puppets revisited, but that’s just fine by me.  I’m not a teenager anymore either.

That’s not to say That Lucky Old Sun (inspired by Louis Armstrong’s rendition of the 1940s chestnut) is perfect, or even that it rivals Wilson’s best work with the Beach Boys.  But there are more than a few flashes of the genius here that have enabled him to continue to draw on a vast reservoir of critical and fan good will. It’s an album that sounds totally out of time (it could very well have been written in 1964 and stored in a vault), but is by no means dated.

What struck me immediately is how the album felt polished and warm and accessible at the same time.  Wilson may not have that angelic falsetto anymore, and years of copious self-medication has given his speech an audible slur, but his production sense is as keen as ever.  That’s clear from the start, when the tight and poppy arrangement of “Morning Beat” sent my foot a-tappin’.

Lyrically and musically That Lucky Old Sun is a concept record, reveling in the warm glow of 1950s and 60s southern California.  Those halcyon days may now only exist in the memories of some, but if anyone can keep the endless summer going Brian Wilson can. Most of the album’s first half contains one minor pop treasure after another, “Good Kind of Love”, “Forever She’ll Be My Surfer Girl”, and the aforementioned “Morning Beat” being the best of the bunch.  The fact that it sounds completely effortless and non-contrived is the icing on the cake.

Credit for all this must assuredly also be given to Wilson’s supporting cast, particularly band member and co-writer Scott Bennett, who have been helping Wilson to realize his musical visions for many years.

The only real missteps here are the handful of spoken-word narratives sprinkled throughout the album.  While they’re interesting, they’re a tad awkward and really don’t add much to the album (of note is that they were written by longtime Wilson collaborator Van Dyke Parks, who thankfully avoids the ultra-flowery prose he’s been known to indulge in).  Same goes for the brief snippet of “Can’t Wait Too Long”, which is a long-lost Beach Boys track and pales in comparison to the original.

While the ebullience of the album’s first portion is infectious and winning, where Wilson really shines is on the slightly more contemplative latter half.  The ghosts of his troubled past are confronted on “Oxygen to the Brain” in lines like “I cried a million tears/I wasted a lot of years/life was so dead” and “How could I have got so low/I’m embarrassed to tell you so/I laid around this old place/I hardly ever washed my face.”

But that’s just a setup for the gut-punch of “Midnight’s Another Day”, a confessional, piano-driven ballad as emotionally naked as “‘Til I Die” (”Took the dive, but couldn’t swim/A flag without the wind”).  After a brief reprise of the album’s theme, the album closes on a pair of high notes.  First is the rollicking and uplifting “Goin’ Home”, and then the gorgeous and aching “Southern California”.

On the second, Wilson recalls his departed brothers Dennis and Carl (who died in 1983 and 1998, respectively):  “I had this dream/singing with my brothers/in harmony/supporting each other/tail winds whisping down the Pacific coast/surfin’ on the air/heard those voices again.”  To hear the normally reserved Wilson sing those words was sad and beautiful at the same time.

Had Brian Wilson not taken the Beach Boys down the more challenging musical path forged by works like Pet Sounds and SMiLE, That Lucky Old Sun would’ve fit right into their catalog.  And whereas I was happy for Brian when he finally issued SMiLe in 2004, That Lucky Old Sun just makes me happy.

Checking in at just over the half-hour mark, frontman and guitarist Ed Anderson and company (brother Matt on bass, Tim Kramp on drums) get right down to business with the deceptively simple title track.  It didn’t make a strong impression on me when I first listened to it, but days later the main guitar riff was still rattling around my head, a tribute to Anderson’s songwriting.  The integration of synths and chimes (not to mention a brief, Beatle-esque trumpet part) into the song is a welcome touch.

The album boasts other strong songs, my favorites being “Shoulda Shut It” and “How in the Hell Did You Get Back Here?”.  The former is a rich, mid-tempo Wilco-like number that sounds like it could’ve been part of the Vagabonds and Hooligans sessions, while the latter is balls-out rocker that will probably sound phenomenal live (should BTF choose to include it in their set).

In contrast to Vagabonds, The Places We Lived is heavy on slower, piano-driven songs, a creative direction that may alienate some fans.  That’s not to say guitars aren’t still a big part of the BTF sound, they’re simply a bit further down in the mix compared to past efforts.  What is undeniable is that due to their presence and also to the band’s devotion to analog recording methods, this album exudes a warm, down-home vibe.

What holds this album back from overtaking Vagabonds as the group’s best work is the inclusion of a couple of decent tracks that don’t feel fully formed (”Everybody’s Down” and “One Wrong Turn”), and a feeling of sameness on some of the tracks.  There is, however enough strong material here to make The Places We Lived worth getting, and getting into.

Track listing:

“The Places We Lived”
“Shoulda Shut It”
“Everybody’s Down”
“Time With You”
“Welcome to the Factory”
“How in the Hell Did You Get Back Here?”
“Rainy Day (don’t go away)”
“One Wrong Turn”
“Legal Crime”
“Home Today”

The second album up for review is the eponymous debut of Peter Brewis’s new project, The Week That Was.  Brewis is a name that should be familiar to fans of quality indie music.  He and brother David co-founded Field Music in 2004, and released two outstanding studio records.  They stopped being a band in 2007 and are now a brand, allowing the brothers to pursue their musical muses without the restrictions they felt being in Field Music placed on them.

David was the first to release a new album from the Field Music brand School of Language, the superb Sea From Shore.  Now it’s Peter’s turn with The Week That Was (Memphis Industries), released last week in the UK and this week in America.  It’s definitely a darker and more complex effort than I expected, but it is a totally satisfying one as well.

A lot of comparisons have been made between this album and early ’80s efforts from Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel, and while I have never bothered with Kate Bush I can buy the Gabriel references.  The heavy percussion and guitar stabs of tracks like “Learn to Learn” and “Scratch the Surface” recall Gabriel’s third album right and Abacab/Mama-era Genesis away.  Field Music’s signature sound is all over this record, however, just in slightly skewed form.  Think of the moodier and denser tracks from Tones of Town and you’ll get the idea.

The Week That Was is actually a concept album, dealing with the twin strands of crime and our relationship with mass media.  It was inspired both by Brewis’s self-imposed one-week retreat from television and by the crime fiction of Paul Auster.  The problem is that with only a half-hour to tell its story, the album is more about ideas and impressions than a concrete story.  But that’s a minor inconvenience when weighed against the music, which is highly rewarding.

While there are not as many “wow” moments on this album as there are on Sea From Shore, The Week That Was is the rare album that actually does get better with subsequent listens - so those seeking instant gratification should look elsewhere (more immediate songs like “The Airport Line” and “Scratch the Surface” not withstanding).  Now that two excellent post-Field Music albums have been released, I can confidently declare that the future looks bright for fans of all things Brewis.

Track listing:

“Learn to Learn”
“The Good Life”
“The Story Waits for No One”
“It’s All Gone Quiet”
“The Airport Line”
“Yesterday’s Papers”
“Come Home”
“Scratch the Surface”
“A Waltz in the Park” (bonus track exclusive to eMusic)

Video bonus!  Check out the promo clip for “Scratch the Surface”, directed by (and starring) Peter Brewis:

Tropic Thunder is the type of film National Lampoon might have produced back in the day when they were culturally relevant and not resigned to making movies for sexually frustrated twentysomethings.  It was instead directed and co-written by Ben Stiller, who I’ve been thoroughly unimpressed with for the most part since his clever and short-lived TV show.  With this film, he has redeemed himself somewhat in my eyes (until the inevitable Meet the Parents 3 at least).

This movie-within-a-movie concerns the making of Tropic Thunder, a Vietnam War pic that is itself based on the memoir of Sgt. John “Four Leaf” Tayback (Nick Nolte).  It stars an unlikely cast featuring nearly washed up action star Tugg Speedman (Stiller), intense Australian method actor Kirk Lazarus (Robert Downey Jr.), drug-addicted comedic actor Jeff “Fats” Portnoy (Jack Black), hip hop/commercial mogul Alpa Chino (Brandon T. Jackson), and the fresh-faced but otherwise unremarkable Kevin Sandusky (Jay Baruchel).

Filming quickly falls behind schedule, helped not in the least by petulant talent and a botched pyrotechnics shot that fondly recalls the opening of the Peter Sellers classic, The Party.  When the film’s producer profanely chews out greenhorn director Damien Cockburn (Steve Coogan), Tayback convinces him that the only way to get things back on track is to immerse the pampered actors in a real jungle combat environment.

I won’t get into the plot any more than that, but you can probably guess that things predictable backfire on Cockburn.  From here, the movie becomes less a spoof and more a direct and broad comedy.  And while the main cast acquits themselves nicely, Tropic Thunder eventually (although perhaps not intentionally) becomes a vehicle for Robert Downey Jr., who displays some fine comedic chops as a way-too-serious actor who seems to be a goof on Russell Crowe.  Some of the movie’s funniest moments revolve around the touchy issue of a white actor taking the place of a black one (in this case, not through blackface but through skin pigmentation surgery).

But what actually drew me to the movie in the first place is the ridiculous controversy over its portrayal of people with “intellectual disabilities”.  And I’m here to tell you that while I can see where the protesters are coming from, they’re way out of line here.  It’s a damn comedy, and the scenes in question take up maybe about 10 minutes out of the whole film.  And while I may not use a line like “never go full retard” in Bible discussion group, I laughed hard at it anyway.

But with or without the controversy, I can highly recommend Tropic Thunder.  It’s not a comedy classic, but it’s still damn funny and manages the increasingly uncommon feat of being raunchy and clever at once.  Oh, and it features a cameo appearance that, if you haven’t heard about it yet, is totally unexpected and an ace bit of casting.  I won’t give it away here, but the actor’s name is listed in the tags for this post.  Yet another bit of redemption…

Although I never did track down that album (The Oracle, long out of print), I did develop an even greater appreciation for Jones’s music, and in turn for jazz in general.  So when I discovered, quite by chance, that he was scheduled for a run of shows at New York’s famed Birdland jazz club in celebration of his 90th birthday, there wasn’t even a thought of not going.  It’s not every day you get to witness a living legend perform, after all, especially these days.

In front of a packed house, Jones started things off with a tender solo rendition of “Alone Together” before he was joined by the rest of his band - bassist George Mraz, guitarist Russell Malone, and drummer Lewis Nash.   The quartet launched into a swinging version of “Stella by Starlight” before they unveiled what I consider to be the highlight of the show - a gorgeous and sophisticated take on the long-time standard “I Cover the Waterfront”.

What made this performance of the song great was not only Jones, but guitarist Russell Malone, of whom I was previously unaware.  His slow-cooking but strong fretwork immediately called to mind the great Wes Montgomery, easily my favorite jazz guitarist.  Hearing Malone (who also stood out during the hard-driving “Speak Low”) play was a revelation, and I will definitely be checking out his work more in the coming days and weeks.

As for the rest of the band - Mraz, who has collaborated with Jones on a number of albums and shows in recent years, was in fine form throughout the set and demonstrated why he’s one of the premiere jazz bassists around.  Nash displayed some serious talent, especially on the uptempo numbers.  I would’ve liked to hear a lighter touch on some of the ballads, but his was still a very enjoyable performance.

And what about the man I came to see?  I’ll admit that I had some concerns about Jones’s ability to play at a high level - after all, not many musicians manage to live to 90, much less perform at that age.  Happily, not only was he in good spirits and humor during the entire set, but played with the same fluid grace and style that drew me to him in the first place. To see and listen to Jones, you simply wouldn’t know he was born when Woodrow Wilson was president.  And as he joked to the audience, he doesn’t feel a day over 89.

During the last half of the set, Malone exited the stage and the trio of Jones, Mraz, and Nash tackled three Jones originals - one by Hank and two by his late brother Thad.  The gem of these was “Interface” - indeed, the very song that introduced me to Hank Jones in the first place.  Hearing it performed live by Hank himself is one of the great moments of my concert-going life.

Malone returned to the stage for two more numbers, and before I knew it the show was over.  But not before Hank was presented with a birthday cake and the audience sang a round of “Happy Birthday to You.”  In all, the entire evening was a display of top-flight musicianship and while I can’t speak for everyone in attendance, the crowd was more than thrilled to have witnessed it.

A quick note about the venue itself: This was my first trip to Birdland, and I highly recommend it.  There didn’t appear to be a bad seat in the place, and the acoustics were excellent.  On top of that, the staff was extremely friendly and the food was excellent (get the Cajun meatloaf!).

Setlist:
“Alone Together” (piano solo)
“Stella by Starlight”
“I Cover the Waterfront”
“Speak Low”
“A Child Is Born”
“Interface”
“Quiet Lady”
“Rhythm-A-Ning”
“Recorda-Me”

Note: “A Child Is Born”, “Interface”, and “Quiet Lady” were performed by the trio of Jones/Mraz/Nash.

So how does someone (say, a hero or a district attorney) on the side of right stop such a villain?  How much are they willing to compromise themselves; and how much collateral damage is acceptable in the process?

This is the central theme of The Dark Knight, the second of the Christopher Nolan-helmed Batman reboot films.  It is a superhero movie only in the sense that its characters have their origins in the paneled pages of comic books.  In almost every other way it’s dense and unsettling psychological exploration that happens to feature fantastical costumes, expansive set pieces, and lots of explosions.

Heath Ledger as The Joker

The villain I’m speaking about is, of course, the Joker.  In the hands of Nolan and the late Heath Ledger, the most notorious of Batman’s arch nemeses transcends the bounds of traditional villainy (or even super-villainy) and lives in the territory of soulless movie monsters like Michael Myers or Jason Vorhees.  Ledger inhabited the role with such abandon and glee that I was able to put the tragic circumstances of his death almost completely out of my mind - although I am not going so far as to peg his performance as Oscar-worthy.

Ledger’s Joker is so unhinged, so unpredictably lethal, that even the combined forces of Gotham City’s organized crime syndicates (save one) eagerly accept his offer to rid them of Batman (Christian Bale), who along with Lt. James Gordon (Gary Oldman) is actually making some progress at restoring law and order to Gotham.  But Batman and Gordon have never faced a threat like the Joker.

D.A Harvey Dent, Lt. Gordon, and Batman chat

Enter new District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), dubbed The White Knight in the film in obvious contrast to Batman.  Dent manages to convince even a skeptical Bruce Wayne that he can stand up to the forces of evil and win; or at least make progress.  By his side is Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal, taking Katie Holmes’s place), and voilà - your love triangle.  All of them and more are brought to the brink by the Joker’s rampage through Gotham.

The Dark Knight squeezes every ounce out of its PG-13 rating that a movie possibly can.  It’s every bit as grim and violent as the ad campaign portrays, and then some.  To Nolan’s credit, however, there is little in the way of outright gore even though the body count is just this side of your average horror film.

But the true darkness of this Bat-film lies in its psychological element.  Whereas Batman Begins was relatively sparse and subdued movie until the climactic third act, The Dark Knight provides little breathing room.  The tension is established in the opening scene and, despite the substantial amount of dialogue and character development, never really lets up.  Violent confrontation and disaster lurk around every corner, but the feelings of fear, mistrust, self-doubt, and isolation brought on by the Joker extend to everyone else in the film.

Christian Bale as Batman

The impact of this after two-and-a-half hours is a bit fatigiung, to be honest.  I can only guess that co-writers Christopher and Jonathan Nolan meant to provide the audience with a sense of what it’s like to actually live in this world of constant peril, instead of simply calmly observing it.  It certainly was in stark contrast to the more traditional film I was expecting.

But the bottom line is that in most ways, The Dark Knight lives up to the hype.  It’s crammed with excellent performances (even though a certain villain, who shall not be named here, is sadly wasted) and manages to pack in plenty of story in between explosions.  So much, in fact, that I think a second viewing is in order.

The Dark Knight takes the superhero genre to a place where few other movies have succeeded in going, and stands as the culmination of the new breed of comic-based films in terms of gritty realism and gloom (even bordering on nihilism).  Where Nolan (assuming he continues the series) and other superhero franchises will go from here will be fascinating to observe.

First up is the self-titled debut EP from Build (New Amsterdam Records, 2008), a Brooklyn-based indie classical quintet formed in 2006.  Now I know what you’re thinking: “Classical music?  Boring!”  Stop thinking that, you’re wrong.  This are modern, tuneful compositions that bears precious little resemblance to your father’s classical music.

For those familiar with Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Build takes a similar approach to their music.  It’s never stuffy or rigid, although it’s far from poppy or light.  Composer/violinist Matt McBane has written five songs that are challenging enough to reward multiple listens, but aren’t complicated for the sake of being complicated.

You can listen to songs from Build either on the group’s MySpace page or on the New Amsterdam Records site.

Track listing:
“In the Backyard”
“Magnet”
“No Response”
“Imagining Winter”
“Drivin’”

Next up is one of my recent favorites - Backyard Tire Fire.  Ed Anderson and the boys are set to release the followup to the superb Vagabonds & Hooligans, The Places We Lived, on August 26.  I’ve only sampled the three streamable tracks on the group’s website, but I like what I’ve heard so far.  It sounds different enough from the last album to indicate some growth, but it still retains the BTF sound I really enjoy.  It treads some of the same alt-country ground as Wilco (a very good thing in my book), but it’s more straightforward.

Those of you in the Midwest can catch BTF live on tour starting in August (dates available from the band’s site).  But everyone can download the the title track from The Places We Lived on the Hyena Records website, or you can just listen to it here (sweet!).

[Open post to listen to audio]

Track listing:
“The Places We Lived”
“Shoulda Shut It”
“Everybody’s Down”
“Time With You”
“Welcome to the Factory”
“How in the Hell Did You Get Back Here?”
“Rainy Day (don’t go away)”
“One Wrong Turn”
“Legal Crime”
“Home Today”

But rather than being just another animated Bat-film, Gotham Knight is actually an anthology of six short films, all presented with different styles of animation.  Those six short films, and my take on them, are:

“Have I Got a Story For You” - A group of young skaters each has seen Batman at various points during the same fight with a criminal that day.  They share their accounts, and with each one Batman takes on a vastly different appearance based on the storyteller’s perspective. Of all Bat’s incarnations, the first is definitely my favorite.  The storytelling is brisk and the tension was built up effectively.  A good start to the proceedings.

“Crossfire” - No, this isn’t about Batman debating politics on CNN, although it is really heavy on the dialogue, at least during the first part.  The action at the end more than makes up for it, though, as a pair of cops on Gotham’s Major Crimes Unit find themselves in the (you guessed it) crossfire of a gang shootout.  Our friend with the cape and cowl makes a timely appearance, and proceeds to kick lots of ass.  The animation is bold and striking here, especially during the fight sequence.  I thought it reminded me a lot of anime, and for good reason, as this segment was produced by the company behind the Ghost in the Shell franchise.

My main beef with “Crossfire” is the rather lifeless voice acting for the Crispus Allen and Anna Ramirez characters.  Other than that, I like this one a lot.

“Field Test” - The Russian and Sal Maroni (already seen in “Crossfire”) make return appearances.  In this one, Bruce Wayne/Batman gets to test a new device designed by Lucius Fox, which proves to be too effective in the end.  This segment shares the same dynamic and striking visual impact that “Crossfire” has, although the Batman of this one has a sleeker look.  Bruce Wayne looks to be about 20 years old, which seems to place this toward the beginning of his crime fighting career.  The animation surrounding the mystery device is pretty cool as well, however this was not a particularly strong entry (but not a dud by any stretch).

“In Darkness Dwells” - A double whammy of classic villainy - Killer Croc and the Scarecrow - makes this film a treat.  I didn’t care for how Batman was rendered, though.  He was too bulky and even looked a little overweight.  But that was more than made up for by the stunning art direction, which lent this segment a more cinematic feel than the previous three.

The story is classic Batman, through and through.  Batman investigates the disappearance of Gotham’s Cardinal O’Fallon, who was taken by what eyewitnesses described a giant lizard man.  The chase leads to a brief but violent clash between the Dark Knight and Killer Croc, before a final showdown with the Scarecrow and his fear toxin-laced minions.

“Working Through Pain” - Ooooh, spiritual.  Actually, this reminded me a lot of the sequence in Batman Begins where Bruce Wayne receives his training.  Here, he travels around the world in the hopes of learning the secret to eliminating physical pain from the Fakir.  Rejected, he receives tutelage instead from a mysterious woman named Cassandra, who herself was trained by the Fakir.  The two share a commonailty, in that they are rejected by society at large.

Bruce learns some deep truths about pain, and discovers that it can never really be conquered.  Batman is only seen at the beginning and end of this segment, and his look is pretty traditional.  This was a good film and served to change the pace quite well overall.  The only thing that could’ve made it better is a new title - “Pain Don’t Hurt.”

“Deadshot” - As has happened many times, Batman’s no-kill policy is put to the test.  This time it’s when he tracks down the assassin Deadshot, currently on an assignment to take out Lt. Gordon.  The plot is quite simple, but the visuals are amazing.  I didn’t think I’d see anyone take a bullet right in the coconut in this one, but I was wrong.  And no, it wasn’t Gordon.

As in the previous segment, the artists didn’t take any real chances with Batman’s appearance.  The cowl is different but otherwise things are as you’d expect them.  The aforementione assassination sequence is the crown jewel of this short film.

Extras - I picked up the two-disc special edition of Gotham Knight.  Disc one contains an audio commentary, a preview for the upcoming DVD release of Wonder Woman (starring Keri Russell of Felicity fame), and other random trailers.

Disc two contains two lengthy featurettes (a character study featurette called A Mirror for the Bat and a biography of Batman co-creator Bob Kane called Batman and Me: The Bob Kane Story).  Funny that Bill Finger gets no featurette, but whatever.  Rounding out the extras is a set of four bonus episodes from the landmark ’90s cartoon Batman: The Animated Series, which along with the Tim Burton feature films helped restore credibility to the franchise for most of the public.

Overall - This is about as good as I expected, which is to say very.  The six films supposedly interconnect, in that they all tell the story of Batman’s development into the Dark Knight we know him as.  I honestly didn’t see too much of a connection there, as this really just seemed like half a dozen random Bat-stories.  The major giveaway was Bruce Wayne’s appearance, as he was markedly younger in some segments.

As mentioned before, some of the voice acting was pretty wooden.  Batman veteran Kevin Conroy returns as the Caped Crusader, and once again is great - although his delivery was more effective in the segments portraying the older Batman.

Animation-wise, this is a knockout.  For those turned off by anime, I would say to give this a shot.  It’s not over the top with the steretypical anime features, and the immense talent on display here is worth seeing at least once.  So yeah, I recommend this highly to anyone who digs animation and/or Batman even a little.