Giant Robot Store and GR2 News
This morning I saw a press screening of Kim Jee-woon's I Saw The Devil, which opens in Los Angeles and New York City next week and rolls out to other cities after that. The bad-cop-versus-serial-killer/revenge movie is both glossy and gritty, with amazing production value, a gorgeous visual style, and no-holds-barred depictions of violence and man's capacity to do evil (to women and each other). Both seasoned fans of cinema and hardened fans of gore are given mountains of conversation topics to match the piles of naked, dismembered bodies. It's hard not to think of Silence of the Lambs during the opening as the serial killer played by Choi Min Sik (Oldboy) drives around in his creepy vehicle looking for prey–in this case, the fiance of a special police agent played by Lee Byung-hun (A Bittersweet Life, JSA). As the former continues on his sadistic spree, the latter begins his own bloody manhunt. Neither actor's character is given much background or exposition, but that isn't really the point. Despite the foes' different backgrounds, their actions become identical and are portrayed in shining, sickening detail as they call each other “bastard” the entire time. It isn't a perfect movie. Audiences looking for plot nuances, gray areas, turning points should go somewhere else, and even die-hard fans of revenge cinema will find the antagonist's friends to be conveniently creepy and wonder why a hungry cannibal wouldn't seek out plumper victims. But the director of the masterful horror movie, A Tale of Two Sisters, and the hybrid Western, The Good, The Bad, And The Weird, takes the manliest of genres–slasher films, violent cop movies, revenge cinema–and turns them into an undeniable dynamo of an experience. Although the movie clocks in at 240 minutes, the tension never wanes for one moment. Audiences may feel trapped by the escalating violence but they will never be bored or feel that the director, actors, or crew are just mailing it in. Yes, the special agent's cat-and-mouse game can be as torturous for the viewer as it is for his wife's killer. And if the devil is a fallen individual who gets off on tempting flawed people to do wrong, then that's exactly what the cop does. The dynamic that results is truly difficult. It's hard to root for the hero and impossible to have pity for the bad guy, but no audience member will leave without feeling exausted, confused, and brutalized. I Saw The Devil is a no-win situation presented in a stunning fashion–a real, rare gift for the few who dream of being flattened in a movie theater.
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For a guy who doesn't get out much… I guess I it happens once in a while. On Sunday afternoon, Ted Leo squeezed in a free matinee for parents and kids at the Eagle Rock Center for the Arts before the evening's sold-out evening show (with stand-up comedians and a Q&A with Keith Morris) and following the previous night's appearance at the fancy Mondrian Hotel's Skybar. I'm a big fan of his music, and thought it was cool to expose young minds to a left-leaning vegan who tends to wear anarcho-peace punk shirts. Oh, yeah, he's an amazing songwriter and performer, too. The show started out with a DJ set by Morris, storytelling by Dallas Clayton, and free ice cream! I'm not sure if there were dairy-free options. Although Leo has faced plenty of tough crowds, this one's attention span was even shorter than usual. However, a veteran of not one but two record label implosions must have the PMA to carry on, and the ex-Chisel member has it in spades. Without support from his tack-sharp backing band The Pharmacists or the lively, witty crowd interaction that he usually elicits, he soldiered through a short-but-strong set. And the short list of songs got even shorter. No new covers were thrown in the mix (although Squeeze got in) but they would have been lost on most of the kids anyway. Afterward I thanked Ted for playing the free show for such a small and rough crowd, and he admitted that it was difficult to follow a confetti cannon. Nonetheless, I love his catchy, smart, poetic, and muck-raking pop and Eloise dug it, too. She even got the setlist! Hopefully, my three-year-old daughter will continue to go along with my musical tastes for a while and not rebel with her own, inevitably opposite direction too soon. The next evening I happened to be invited by a good friend to see Gang of Four at the Music Box in Hollywood. I got to see the offshoot band Shriekback on the Big Night Music tour way back when at Fender's Ballroom (with Hoodoo Gurus at their peak!) but never saw the highly influencial group that bassist Dave Allen came from. Yes, Gang of Four were amazing. Singer Jon King and guitarist Andy Gill remain, and still play the best funk-informed, Maoist-inspired post punk ever–blowing away the copycats–and their copycats, too. King does not stop moving. While the front man's movement often seems to correspond with the lyrics he's singing, the effect is not theatrical in any way. It's more like he's being shocked by electricity or being controlled by an invisible (and cruel) puppet master Meanwhile, Gill is as stoic in his demeanor and masterful in his playing. When he sings, it's similarly straightforward–a perfect foil to King. They played songs of their cool new album, but didn't neglect any of the hits: “Damaged Goods,” “To Hell with Poverty,” “At Home He's a Tourist,” “I Love a Man in a Uniform”… During “Anthrax,” Allen...
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I've been to plenty of rock shows at hotels over the years. When Scream was at the Park Plaza Hotel, I saw Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds on the Tender Prey tour, Sonic Youth on the Sister tour, Lords of the New Church with Stiv Bators, and Jane's Addiction who knows how many times. And then there were Rocket from the Crypt's legendary annual Halloween shows at Horton Plaza, which I attended a handful of. Tonight I went to the super trendy Mondrian on the cheesiest part of the Sunset Strip to catch a free show by Dum Dum Girls. Although the Skybar regulars were decidedly bourgoie, the pool actually added some cool ripple effects that complemented the sound of the upcoming EP: still decidedly dark (verging on goth) and psychedelic (more dreamy than acidic) with somewhat clearer vocals than before. It will be nice to hear the real thing and not hear it filtered through YouTube when it comes out in March. The set was short and sweet, the sound was suprisingly good, and the evening was a great teaser for the band's eventual return to L.A. Opening for the Dum Dums everywhere else on the current tour is Dirty Beaches from Vancouver by way of San Francisco, Hawaii, Toronto, Hawaii… Although I didn't get to see Alex play his primo brand of dreamy, lo-fi, deconstructed rockabilly, I did get to finally meet him and talk about all sorts of things: the movies of Wong Kar-Wai (which inspired him to take up smoking), his favorite bands in China (where he just got back from), and his dad (who is featured on a couple of his 7″ single sleeves). Look for the full interview to be posted next week, and definitely show up early to see him if you plan on catching the Dum Dum Girls when the tour hits your town. You'll be blown away by both. Dirty Beaches, above. Dum Dum Girls, below. Hot damn, what a killer lineup…
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Since 60 Minutes was on right before the Grammys, some of you might have caught Andy Rooney's rant on The King's Speech. It turns out that when the commentator was reporting on WWII, he and other correspondents were actually visited by King George VI in North Africa. Wow. It's always been easy to dismiss him as that cranky old curmudgeon, but on Sunday night he crossed the line from being really old old to historic! But the pontificator's point was that he likes movies that remind him of things that he knows about. Conversely, one of the things I've always liked about the Cometbus zine is that the author/drummer/photocopy artist Aaron Cometus writes about going to places I've never been and doing things I'll never do–embarking on long tours with bands, living in squats and punk houses, or riding a bike through Europe, for example. So it was odd that the latest issue features so much material that I am quite familiar with. In Cometbus 54, he accepts an invitation from Green Day to join the band on the Asian leg of its tour. Stops include Thailand, Singapore, Hong Kong, South Korea, and Japan. As much as he can, he does his trademark wandering through alleys, scoping out used bookstores, and imbibing mass quantities of coffee on a continent that's new to him. But the real story is also about his longtime connections with the band, the different paths they chose–fame and obscurity, major label and DIY–and their lasting, evolving friendship. While I've gathered some knowledge about Asian culture as the editor of Giant Robot, I'm also very aware of the band. Green Day actually stayed at my house after they played a gig at UCLA's Coop when my friend Craig was booking shows there. The group had one album and a couple of singles out at the time and they only spent one night, but everything Cometbus writes about them rings true in my memories. Tre was the goofiest one, fucking around in his “Mack” baseball cap and yelling “Bass!” all the time (Public Enemy was huge). Mike was the sympathetic one who apologized for everyone sleeping in after I got busted for speeding on the way back to Westwood with them to catch the Mr. T Experience's lunchtime show and pick up their check the next day. Billie Joe was mostly quiet but left his phone number and said to call if I ever made it up to the East Bay. All three had stinky feet, and I baked cookies after they left so my roommates wouldn't have to smell the aftermath. I never dialed BJ's number, but I did keep seeing Green Day a lot back then. A pilgrimage to Gilman St., a road trip to some shack in Santa Barbara, and a date at the Palomino come to mind as being particularly amazing, with merely great shows ranging from a lowly slot at the Coconut Teaszer to opening for Bad Religion at the Palladium. I never...
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These two winners from the review slush pile will feel quite familiar to fans of music from the '90s. The first is the latest project from a pioneer and hero of the Riot Grrl and twee scenes, and comes out on February 15. The second is a lo-fi aftershock from the Year Punk Broke, and comes out a week later. Brave Irene – S/T EP Tiger Trap, Go Sailor, The Softies–now you can add Brave Irene to the stellar list of Rose Melberg-fronted pop bands. And while the five-member lineup is a bit larger than her previous groups, its sound is anything but bloated. The peach-fuzzy guitars and warm keyboards perfectly complement the sweet vocal harmonies without adding an iota of excess, while the crisp drumming just manages to keep the Vancouver group's songs from floating away into the ether. And as the band's songs are deceptively simple and straightforward, only the purist of ideas (“Bank Holiday,” “Hit the Grass Running,” “River to the Sea”) seem to provide the basis for lyrics. At times, the band's hyper-sweet brand of post-twee leans toward psychedelic and garage rock with its keyboard raveups, but it never strays far from pop purity. [Slumberland] Brave Irene – No Fun by Slumberland Records Yuck – S/T EP Heavily informed by bands like Dinosaur Jr., Teenage Fanclub, and maybe even the Lemonheads, this U.K. group with connections to Israel, Japan, and the U.S. hoards its influences and approaches which take turns shining in different songs. Maybe the coolest sound recalls the lesser-known band from France, Les Thugs, with expertly crafted fuzz and a ton of distortion somewhat masking the impossibly catchy pop structures of “Holing Out” and “Rubber”–each with awesome, amazing, and inspired NSFW videos (including the one below). “Suicide Policeman” is another interesting song, with its comfortable indie strumming suddenly becoming usurped by reverb and lounge. Playing “What does this song sound like?” can be distracting, but the band is enjoyably on its way to carving out its own sound and racking up earholes. [Fat Possum]
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