Notes from the Dan Sessions: A New Era Begins

It's been some time since I've posted, and that's because I've been incredibly busy, and when I haven't been busy I've been exhausted. And when I haven't been exhausted I've been trying to squeeze in as much self-entertainment as possible. But I want to keep this up, and I had the very strange idea to post these. "These" are notes I make, as a track listing as much as anything else, for the mix CDs I like to make. Most people listen to their MP3s on their headphones, but I'm perfectly happy with my portable CD player and an album of my own devisement. I call these CDs "The Dan Sessions", and each ends up with a pretentious subtitle. Think of these as a strange chronicle of my life in song, or as simply music recommendations. And I don't have to come up with them, because they're already written!

A New Era Begins

This disc was made during a period of change in my life that ended a sort of bout with despondency, which was also a period in which I didn't make any mixes. It immediately became a staple of long bus rides and quick-paced walks down wide, empty, condo-lined streets.


1. Saliva – “Ladies and Gentlemen”
And the “New Era” begins with a song that’s one three-and-a-half minute proclamation of forthcoming awesomeness. It’s silly and ludicrous in its brashness (“Your ears and your eyes may be bleeding”), but it rocks and somehow it makes it believes that whatever’s coming will deliver on the anticipation. Saliva isn’t anybody’s favorite band; usually they produce generic rockers, but this time they went with their instincts and delivered a genuine pick-me-up that uses phrases like “explosion of catastrophe.”
2. Fujiya & Miyagi – “Collarbone”
Every once in a while we meet something genuinely different, and it’s love at first sight. Or listen. What is this? Alternative Rock? A strange cousin of rap? Low groove jazz? A children’s rhyme? Who the heck are these guys? Their names sound Japanese. There’s a weird moment in the middle where he rolls the heck out of an “r”. There are sections whispered over bass and claps, mixed with pseudo-beat boxing. And then atonal guitar craziness. What really matters is that the first time I heard it I knew it was something special, and this ended up as one of the most-played tracks on my dearly departed radio show. Try walking down the street to this one.
3. Foo Fighters – “The Pretender”
The Foo Fighters, more than almost any band today, are capable of creating albums full of mainstream rock hits while still appealing to those who like to think of themselves as having discerning ears. This song rocks hard, but it also has a soul. “What if I say I will never surrender?” Was well onto my playlist before it showed up over the first “Dollhouse” trailer, which of course it was perfect for.
4. Vampire Weekend – “Oxford Comma”
I recently read someone, not really in a derisive way, proclaim Vampire Weekend “the Whitest Band in the World.” And yes, their biggest hit to date is about commas… sort of, anyway. It’s also about butlers and chap-stick. This is a song that seems laid-back and angry at the same time, barely contained behind the vaguely calypso rhythm. “Why would you lie about something dumb like that?” Another song that introduced me to something genuinely new.
5. PJ Harvey – “Down By the Water”
What the heck is this song even about? It’s like a low growl, wretched and lonely. It gets under your skin like an itch. PJ Harvey can do that. And it ends with a stretch nobody who hears it ever forgets, that whispered chant: “Little Fish/Big Fish/Swimming in the water/Come back here and give me my daughter.” There are strings here, guitar, drums, but they all seem under Harvey’s hypnotic spell, barely alive. A work of amazing power.
6. Matchbox Twenty – “How Far We’ve Come”
Rob Thomas is one of the greatest songwriters living. Yes, Matchbox Twenty has become so mainstream they get played on easy listening, but that’s hardly their fault, and this is a candidate for best song of the year. It’s been used in every trailer, ad, montage you can think of, but that’s because it the kind of song that genuinely works on myriad levels. It’s driving, it’s urgent, and it delivers its intended feeling with surgical precision: This is the end of this, and that is worth being sad about, but the ride delivered, and we should be dancing.
7. Flobots – “Handlebars”
I heard this song one day on the radio and it was probably the highlight of that week. It’s a song about the sin of pride, and not just that it’s a sin but why it’s a sin. It dramatizes the loss of innocence. This is a song that explains Hitler from Hitler’s perspective. That’s a lot to ask of a short piece of music, but somehow it manages it. Some people will hear it and say “there’s rapping on the radio,” as my mom always likes to. They’ll be missing something transcendant.
8. Sea Wolf – “You’re a Wolf”
For a relatively low-key song, this is one that sure gets stuck in my head a lot. There are about five lines in the whole song, but between the song manages between the quietly insistent guitar and the loping cello to keep itself feeling fresh. It pulls you in, like the semi-mystic encounter with a gypsy woman that its lyrics seem to describe. An indie gem.
9. Cold War Kids – “Hospital Beds”
This is a weird song. Cold War Kids are high-pitched and sparse, and the piano bits seem more to twinkle than play an actual tune. Much of the song seems like a sort of chant, a plea for help, but other times a strange joy seeps in. Somehow it feels to me like something out of World War I, with scenes from Atonement, though that would seem contradictory because it possesses the DNA of alternative rock, and makes no particular effort to be retro. It brings us into something so well that we’re almost startled when we’re let out of it five minutes later.
10. A Fine Frenzy – “Almost Lover”
There is no song that can bring me to the edge of tears so easily. It is almost ridiculous, how emotional this song can make me despite having no particular event in my life to tie it to. There are production pieces shimmering occasionally in the background, but it’s essentially just the singer’s voice and her fingers on the piano keys. I love sometimes just to feel; it brings me out of my life and into a place of startling beauty and sharpness. This song, especially in the startling crescendo of a bridge, does that as well as anything I’ve run across.
11. Scissors for Lefty – “Ghetto Ways”
Strategically placed to bring us out of the previous song’s mood, we have a weird, nearly incomprehensible piece of dance music. It’s like listening to a party through the wall. The chorus seems to just be a strange sort of heavy breathing… but it’s infinitely relistenable. It’s minor key enough not be jarring, but it’s still reminiscent of The Killers… after they dropped acid.
12. Rufus Wainwright – “Going to a Town”
A song written and performed with anger, sadness, and longing by an openly gay artist, this is an extremely slow build of piano rock that makes us really feel the repeated line “I’m so tired of America.” When I first heard this song, Obama was barely a blip on the radar screen, and it seemed like we were living in the last days of Rome, overrun with prejudice and malaise. Even before Wainwright starts singing about “bathing the body of Jesus Christ in blood,” he’s captured that feeling better than any other artist I’ve heard.
13. The Swell Season – “Falling Slowly”
This is a sweet little tune that somehow becomes, over the course of its length, about nothing less than everything. Male and female voices swoop over plaintive strings, lamenting how little time we have. It was from the soundtrack for the film Once, but it became much bigger than the little-seen movie it came from, and ended up winning an Oscar and putting its indie-darling creators squarely on the mainstream map. Glen Hansard makes us believe he’s falling in love and it’s making him cry, without irony and with total conviction.
14. Gomez – “How We Operate”
I discovered this song about a week before it went mainstream, largely due to an appearance on “Grey’s Anatomy”. Its main instrument is a banjo, at least for the opening minute or so, and the voice is almost country, but this is unmistakably a rock song. A rock song not quite like any other rock song. It’s like a night drive in the desert, gradually gaining momentum, adding layers, while something truly meaningful twinkles just out of reach. There are ghosts here, and sweeping strings.
15. Maximo Park – “Books from Boxes”
Maximo Park is one of those ice-cold bands with a low, melodic voice, like Longwave or Idlewild, and like most of those that are successful they somehow manage to be catchy, at least on this track. This didn’t make my collection for any special reason other than that I think it’s really good, and don’t seem to tire of it. In the first verse we hear “We can beat the sun as long as we keep moving.” And I for one believe it.
16. The Wombats – “Let’s Dance to Joy Division”
First of all, there’s a band named The Wombats. Second of all, someone wrote an entire song about listening to “Love Will Tear Us Apart” with an ironic ear. It’s peppy and fast, the single punkiest song on this disc. It made my regular playlist, and then somewhere in there it took on several more layers. This is my song about making the best of it in today’s economy. “It can all go so wrong, and we’re so happy.” It ends in laughter.
17. Fleet Foxes – “White Winter Hymnal”
This is the unlikeliest of indie hits. Time recently named it the third best song of 2008, and called it “choral roundelay.” It feels like the Beach Boys through a glass darkly, and it’s very very pretty. In only a few minutes, we’re once again in another world, this one snowbound and quiet. For all that, there’s a surprising amount of rock here, and I would hardly characterize this as a “slow song.”
18. IAMX – “President”
I never heard of IAMX before this song, but I have to seek out more of them. Like “Going to a Town”, this is a minor-key epic of piano rock. But unlike that tune, this one is post-Obama, and comes off more as an insistent proclamation of hope, a march to victory for the little guy. In a year where I found myself vaulted into politics, this song feels like where I’ve been and where my twisted dreams are going. With a circus-organ thump thrown in for good measure. It ends like a foreboding of the future.

Movie Reviews for People Who Go to the Dollar Movies After Work: Tropic Thunder

This is the first movie I've reviewed in this series that was actually successful, but that doesn't mean you should pay top dollar for it! Tropic Thunder is a middling Hollywood comedy that gets quite a bit of its appeal from its A-list talent. It's directed by the actor Ben Stiller, and he got a bunch of his friends, including Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, Matthew McConaughey, Nick Nolte, Steve Coogan, and yeah, Tom Cruise, who has a ball as the new modern stereotype of a movie mogul, to appear in it, not to mention a myriad of cameos and in-jokes.

The basic premise is that a bunch of actors making a Vietnam movie end up stranded in the jungle. They think the cameras are still rolling (even after their director (Coogan) steps on a land mine and blows up in front of them), and when they stumble across a bunch of heroin traffickers their movie turns into real life. Stiller's character is an over-the-hill action star, making a bid for mainstream credibility. Downey Jr. is an Australian actor, a five-time Oscar winner who doesn't break character when the cameras stop rolling. For this movie he's had surgery to make himself black... Yes, in the era of the Obama presidency, blackface is apparently finally acceptable comedic fodder. Black is a comedian best known for fart-joke movies who spends most of the movie in heroin withdrawal, which we're also now apparently able to play for laughs.

Rather than a lot of huge laughs or really great lines, this movie generally just does everything with a smile on its face. It has several swear words per sentence, but the movie it reminded me of the most might be, weirdly, another Stiller film, Zoolander. But there's nothing here on the level of "How are they supposed to learn to read if they can't even fit inside the building?" There's a lot of little, tonal jokes given to us rapid fire. The audience wasn't nearly as into it as some other comedies I've seen recently, even Get Smart. That said, this probably required a higher level of skill from everyone involved than a silly spy comedy, as a lot of it depends on timing and how swear words are delivered. This may have had a higher percentage of unintelligible dialogue than any other mainstream comedy I've been to, and I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not. Probably not.

There are a lot of good things here, but I'm not sure they ever come together into anything real. Downey Jr. got a lot of the press, and deservedly so. He just goes on these extended, nonsensical riffs, and they're probably the best thing in the movie ("I know who I am! I'm a dude playing a dude disguised as another dude!"). Nolte, playing the soldier upon whose story the movie is based, has fun pulling out every military cliche in the book, but becomes less interesting once we learn the real truth about him. Black's character just seems superfluous. It's like he was added to create chaos, but he doesn't create enough chaos to justify his existence.

This review feels disjointed, but this is a disjointed movie. I think it probably got better reviews than it deserved. It has some funny moments, but it has too many swings and misses. If you were smart enough to skip the big movie theater, make this a dollar movie.

Books: Islands in the Sea of Madness

So, as the election screamed down the rails like Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train, not to mention the economy doing an imitation of the Hindenburg, we were all left with a little excess stress. And if you're like me, one way to deal with all of that is to escape into the world of books. Our loyal readers will know I like Sci-Fi, and the last three books I finished were all on the short list for the Hugos and Nebulas this past year. (The Sci-Fi equivalents of the Oscars/Pulitzers/whatever). Despite theoretically sharing a common genre, it'd be hard to find three books that are more different. I thoroughly enjoyed all of them, and wanted to bring you my recommendations...

The Yiddish Policeman's Union by Michael Chabon

This book is the most recent winner of Sci-Fi's highest annual honor, the Hugo Award for Best Novel. Chabon is one of American literature's brightest young turks, and in this book he's created something so unique that one wonders where he possibly could have gotten his ideas from. The most basic description for it is a noir set in an alternate history, though that doesn't quite do it justice. The story is set in the year 2008, in a district of Alaska specially set aside for Jews. The main language is yiddish, and the capital is the burgeoning metropolis of Sitka, with a population in the millions. Apparently there was an actual historical movement to do just this following the end of World War II, as opposed to, say, the creation of Israel, but it was scuttled by a congressman from Alaska. The novel diverges from our history simply by having said congressman get hit by a car.

Our protagonist is a down-on-his-luck detective, determined to investigate the murder of a heroin addict believed by some orthodox jews to have been a potential messiah despite the impending "reversion" of the District of Sitka to the United States (think of the situation with Hong Kong and China). His world is a cold, rainy place, populated by beautifully sketched characters and conspiracies. The real treat in the novel is Chabon's facility with language, which can make a strange kind of poetry out of descriptions of an old man's coat or a warm doughnut. Great stuff.

Calculating God by Robert J. Sawyer

Unless you count Margaret Atwood, whose occasional forays into the genre have resulted in such classics as The Handmaid's Tale, Robert J. Sawyer is probably Canada's most successful Sci-Fi author. He writes hard science fiction, but general comes at things from an anthropological angle rather than one of physics, which makes him harder to categorize. His most famous work is probably his series that began with Hominids, in which scientists make contact with an alternate universe where Neanderthals became the dominant species of humanity.

Calculating God is obviously the work of the same author, though the storyline and the ideas set out are very different. The book begins, comical in its matter-of-factness, with the landing of an alien spaceship outside the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. An spider-like alien gets out, enters the museum, and asks if it could see a paleontologist. That paleontologist is the book's main character, and the book consists mostly of his internal debates and conversations with the alien, who is far more interested in scientific research than in meeting our leaders.

The twist is that the aliens, based on their observations of the universe, have come to the conclusion that science has proven the existence of God. Their observations of Earth only confirm this. The scientist is an atheist, and we discover he is dying of cancer. So the debates between the two, mostly regarding the nature of life and universe, take on an unusual, fascinating tone. The alien makes the scientific case for the existence of God, quoting statistics about the variance of constants, while the scientist makes the emotional, faith-based case against the existence of God. If there is a God who created the laws of physics, why would he create cancer? What possible being could morally justify so much suffering?

Despite the occasional bit of jargon, the book is one of the quickest, easiest reads I've come across in a while. It's hard to put my finger on why. It would have been easy for Sawyer to fall into the usual trap of Hard SF, to be distracted by the science at the expense of our own enjoyment of the story, but he avoids this with strong characterization, and a vivid depiction of the warm friendship that builds between the scientist and the alien. This is that rare specimen, alien who, without just being a human with pointy ears, feels like a real "person". The book isn't perfect, and there's a totally unnecessary subplot involving terrorists targeting fossils, but it was one of my favorite random finds in a long time.

Halting State by Charles Stross

Charles Stross is a British writer who has a way of making made-up technojargon sound like good, smooth writing. How he does this I have no idea, but I think it has something to do with strong characterization and not being afraid to make bold stylistic choices. Halting State is a lot of things, but one thing it's not is simple to read. It jumps among a number of characters, all the while being written in the second person, mixing a strong scottish brogue with internet-speak both real and imagined. How do you write in a scottish brogue? Again, I'm not really sure, but Stross definitely manages it. ("You cannae understand why the prize twat isna answering his IM") This is a story set circa 2020, and centering around the world of virtual reality gaming. Probably the main through-line is provided by a detective who is assigned to investigate a seemingly impossible bank robbery with real-world implications carried out in a sort of next-gen "World of Warcraft" by a band of orcs "with a dragon along for fire support." Science Fiction was slow discovering the internet, but between this book and others like last year's tremendous Hugo winner, Rainbow's End by Vernor Vinge, the the web is building up its own field of SF lit. It's about time.

Meet the New Nobility

The Nobel prizes, perhaps the greatest honors given out by mankind, have been announced, and there are some surprises and some interesting stories. Here’s who’s getting them this year:

Physics: Yoichiro Nambu (b. Tokyo, currently at the Fermi Institute in Chicago), for the discovery of the mechanism of spontaneous broken symmetry in subatomic physics. Also, Makoto Kobayashi & Toshihide Maskawa (KEK in Kyoto), for the discovery of the origin of the broken symmetry which predicts the existence of at least three families of quarks in nature. The Irish news service RTE reported that “They laid the theoretical foundations for modern understanding of how the laws of physics differ for matter and anti-matter.”

Medicine: The prize went to three researchers crediting with discovering important viruses, this allowing for their effective treatment. The honorees are Harald zur Hausen (German Cancer Research Centre, Heidelberg) for his discovery of human papilloma viruses causing cervical cancer, and Francoise Barre-Sinoussi & Luc Montaignier (Institut Pasteur, Paris) for their discovery of human immunodeficiency virus. Definitely deserved all around.

Chemistry: Three Americans: Osamu Shimomura (born in Japan), Martin Chalfie, & Roger Tsien, received the prize for the discovery and development of the green fluorescent protein, GFP. Remember those pictures of the glowing cats? Yeah, that was these guys. I want a glowing cat. It was reportedly discovered in jellyfish, then researchers discovered they could use it as a study marker.

Literature: I personally think the literature branch is completely out of touch with reality. I’m not usually nationalist, but the head of the committee said the other day that there’s “nothing of value” coming out of America right now. Uh-huh. The prize this year went to a French writer I’ve never heard of, Jean Marie Le-Clezio, "author of new departures, poetic adventure and sensual ecstasy, explorer of a humanity beyond and below the reigning civilization."

Peace: Probably the most prestigious prize goes this year to the former President of Finland, Martti Ahtisaari. He has apparently been a peace moderator everywhere from Kosovo to Indonesia’s Aceh Province, though I had never heard of his laudable efforts before now. Most Americans have only heard of the current Finnish president, a woman who Conan O’Brien supported because he thought she looked like him. Um…

The Economics prize will be announced Monday. Of course, the Nobel prizes were started by Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite. He decided that his invention was too violent and decided to do something positive with his fortune in his will. In addition to the prestige, winners get oodles of cash. The prizes are awarded in Stockholm, except for Peace, which is awarded separately in Oslo, for whatever reason.

"Mad Men" Review: The Alternate Universe That Was 1960 America

For some time now, I've been a proponent of television's qualitative ascendancy over mainstream film... if you know where to look. That's why it's a little embarassing that I haven't gotten around to "Mad Men" until now. A Golden Globe and an Emmy later, it appears I've missed a caravel-sized boat (of course, "Everybody Loves Raymond" won plenty of Emmys, and I feel quite proud of having been absent from that particular cruise). Of course, one has to remember that the series began life as the first ever original series on AMC, a channel I had previously mostly thought of as an inferior substitute for Turner Classic Movies, so there was little to initially catch my attention. In any case, after the unfortunately stultifying Emmys last night and weeks of urging from sources I trust, I set out to download the series' award-winning pilot, "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes."

"Mad Men" is a hard show to review. Its drama, at least in this pilot, is nearly entirely internal. We are presented with a series of characters that feel like real people, and who are placed very well-realized, well-defined world, that of New York, Madison Avenue to be exact, circa 1960. And oh, what a world! For someone like myself, a proud member of the digital generation, this feels less like a historical drama than one of those alternate universes where adventurers ride around in dirigibles. It's a culture that looks remarkably like our own, with car-filled streets and executives clad in expensive suits sitting behind desks... but it feels completely alien.

In the great recent HBO series "Rome," set in the famed formative years of the Roman Empire, the historical touches feel very authentic, but the sense we were left with was that people of all eras are essentially the same, and have essentially the same concerns. Ancient Rome is made to feel as modern as possible without sacrificing believability. In "Mad Men," we are instead repeatedly have the point driven home that life in 1960 was incredibly different than it is today.

This is a place where absolutely everyone smokes, all the time, everywhere. It's amazing they didn't all die of lung cancer by the time they were 35. This is a world where feminism is barely a shadow on the horizon, where men routinely call women "honey," where one woman says to another, without irony, that the men who designed a typewriter "made it so simple a woman could use it." A doctor prescribes birth control pills as barely an afterthought in the middle of lecturing a girl not to be a "strumpet." Businessmen are expected to drink alcohol while at work, and what looks like a closet conceals a team of busy female switchboard operators.

The milieu nearly overwhelms the story, but it never quite does. We are led with a sure hand into these people's lives, and halfway through the opening episode I was suffienciently at ease to sit back and enjoy this story, to listen to these people talk. They all come across, by modern standards, of above-average intelligence, coming from a time when conversation was still among the chief forms of recreation. Their speech isn't flowery, but after a while one starts to hear a sort of subtle poetry in it. Jon Hamm, doing a fine job as ad exec Don Draper, gets a final speech that may be the emotional center of the episode, about how the traditional notion of romantic love was "invented by people like me, to sell nylons."

There isn't a sour note in this first episode, and its Emmy for writing was well-deserved. I can tell you that this is a show worth seeking out on its obscure cable network, and that this will not be the last episode I'll be watching.