Which brings me to a conversation I just recently had: what in the world will the 2000s be remembered for? There’s such a definitive line between the decades, but what of my generation? I hope to god it won’t be remembered for emo, which although significant due to its popularity, is a pathetic attempt to reach out to those who have long lost grunge but want the goth aesthetic. I mean look at them! Tell me they weren’t in it for the money rather than the music. Seriously.

Then again, there is “indie” rock. Although, in this age of MySpace and iPods, and where almost every music loving home owns a computer, why is it that people are accepting the same generic drivel from this tired, worn-out “genre”? Why can’t there be that one guy in his bathroom creating a unique masterpiece that actually gets recognized for it? That, would be indie.

These days, especially in England, people seem to be yearning for that ideal, so much that they just accept a tired Oasis clone as the best thing to happen since… well… Oasis, simply because they represent all things indie, which is principally their rise to fame due only to word of mouth on the internet. I speak of none other than the Arctic Monkeys. “SHUT UP! Enough already, Ballstein! Who cares about Derek Zoolander anyway? The man has only one look, for Christ’s sake! Blue Steel? Ferrari? Le Tigra? They’re the same face! Doesn’t anybody notice this? I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!” Just the way I feel about these cookie cutter indie bands. Does no one seem to recognize that it’s the same thing over and over again?

By the way, if anyone gets the chance, see This Is England, an amazing movie about skinheads in the 80′s. It’s a heavy one, but what an incredible portrait of the nationalism and racism during the Thatcher years partly brought about by the war in the Falkand Islands.

Concerning England, I really have no idea what I should think about going there. I remember a day when Japan was my country of worship, but I feel as if my bonds with Japan were weaker than what I feel for England. Music is now my life, and music from England has been consistently my favorite, going all the way back to the Kinks and the Beatles and up to Blur and Radiohead.

I guess leaving many of my best friends has also had a bit of an effect on me… It’s tough to think I’ll be seeing so little of the people who are closest to me in my life. But I have to accept it. I have to know that it isn’t the end of the world, and I will see them again, as hard as it is for my deluded mind to believe.

Well, it was amazing. Hot Fuzz beat the hell out of Shaun of the Dead not because it was an amazing spoof, but because it was a true action film with well placed humor poking fun at the action genre as a whole. Definitely a must see for anyone who loved Shaun of the Dead.

Then came Chalk, the little indie movie that could. It had been traveling around the festival circuit for some time and only a few weeks ago did it finally premiere in West LA’s Nuart of all places. The director, producer, and one of the actors from the movie was there to field some questions and discuss the movie afterwards.

(This, by the way, was the first time I’d been in the Nuart Theater since it had been remodeled however long ago, and they did it perfectly; no more cramped, uncomfortable seats without any leg room!)

Chalk is a mockumentary revolving around three teachers and one assistant principal in an Austin, Texas high school. Rather than being about the students though, it’s from the teacher’s perspectives. But the main story focuses on the 1st year teacher Mr. Lowrey, a bumbling, nervous wreck who can hardly control his students. Then there’s Mr. Stroope, whose only goal this year is to win the Teacher of the Year award. Scenes such as the slang spelling bee and the Teacher of the Year speeches are comedic gold. The truly amazing part of this movie, however, is that I have teachers who’ll act exactly like the ones in the movie. I’ve never seen a teacher portrayed in such a true-to-life manner such as this.

Last Monday I saw Severance, a horror comedy not unlike Shaun of the Dead, but instead of zombies, there were some real dangerous fellows creeping around the woods seeking revenge. This movie was more of a true horror film with some comedy splashed in rather than a lampoon of sorts, and, even though the plot is rather thin, there are some real comedy as well as genuinely horrific gems all throughout. Personally, I’ve been desensitized to blood and knives and flame-throwers, but by the look on my friend’s faces during the movie, it may have been a bit more creepy than I make it seem. All in all, it was a fun movie; nothing special, but if the mood strikes for some awesome horror with some hilarious drug references, this is the movie to see.

On the music side, I saw the duo Crystal Castles from Montreal last Saturday (I’m this guy in the grey and blue hoodie), infamous for their fast, loud, strobe-lighted shows, including one at SXSW. A hooded boy keyboardist Ethen and screaming girl vocalist Alice, as well as a real drummer rather than the drum machine used on their recorded EP Alice Practice, this duo (trio when live, I guess) proved to be well worth seeing. The show only lasted about 30 minutes, but they couldn’t have made the crowd go more wild to the 8-bit bleeps and dancable drum beats.

On Tuesday I went to see The Arcade Fire at the Greek Theater, which was the place to be if you were into Canadian indie (iTunes link), because this was the big one. In fact, AF’s first album, Funeral, was the first indie album I’d ever bought (besides the My Iron Lung EP by the we-fight-to-be-indie band Radiohead). The show was astounding, I couldn’t believe how precisely and tightly they played; everything was orchestrated so absolutely perfectly. For any other band, playing like this would be commonplace, but for a 10-piece band with that many varying instruments? These guys were something else. One song noted for its incredible presentation was My Body Is a Cage, in which the lead singer’s face was projected onto the head of a cardboard cutout much like the little man on restroom signs. Very cool.

That’s it for now, next show is tomorrow which will be Deerhoof and Autolux at the Natural History Museum.

The Shining was the kind of movie that scares you more after you watch it, and besides, it was more about the atmosphere and how it made the viewer feel. But as far as the horror factor goes, Nicholson was the only one who could’ve played the Jack character, he made the film what it is. None of this is really new though, this movie’s been around forever. My only thought was that it’d be a completely different movie if the music were to be changed.

Next, a classic New York film noir. The Killing, made in 1956 (the “classic” era for film noirs), is astonishing. I think of all movies from that long ago as more akin to books than a movie by today’s standards. I say this because you get dropped right into the action, not knowing who people are or what role they play until you figure it out for yourself. This movie builds suspense like none other, not nervous suspense, but of the anxious kind. The end is not what you think it’ll be, but I haven’t seen enough film noir to determine whether this is normal.

Lucky for me I was dead wrong.

This movie was absolutely amazing with just the right amount of humor while still being serious at times. The monster, a mutated fish formed from mass amounts of formaldehyde being dumped into the local river by way of the doctor’s sink, was rendered with amazing detail and ultimate creepiness without being too over-the-top insane. The cinematography is incredible; the way suspense is built in the monster scenes is brilliant, like no other movie I’ve seen. Imagine this house-size fish thing staring a girl it put in its lair down for a full minute of breath-taking edginess before attacking her with incredible ferociousness.

Under the blue blue sky
Stupid blue birds fly
It ain’t butterflies
Sex in paradise

I’ll get me a hat, you’ll wear a thong
We’ll love and dance to a metallica song
O baby, what a beautiful day
Tra la la la la

We’ll live in a hut, and talk about art
We’ll get a fat cat, named Bonapart
O baby’ why don’t we get away

-excerpt from Sex in Paradise

They’re so gimmicky that it’s hard not to love them.

Kaspar Houser is a charming film about a foundling in 19th century Germany. It’s compelling, sweet, and the acting is brilliant. The story is based on the actual events which happened to Kaspar Houser during this same time period.

Heart of Glass, on the other hand, I was completely unprepared for. Herzog did discuss the process he went through when hypnotizing his entire cast to create a unique effect and dream-like quality of acting, but I felt that it was way too artsy. The main character, who was the only one not hypnotized during production, could see into the future. He could see the demise of this small village which relied on selling a special type of “ruby glass” to survive. The message of this film was clear, but it was not done in a way that I was prepared to sit through. I only had 5 hours of sleep the night before, this movie started at 10:30 and didn’t end until midnight, and I had just finished watching another movie just before it; I was in no mood to fully concentrate on this mind-trip. To be fair, I’m going to rent this movie and watch it again when I have the time and am fully awake.

Highlight of the night: Werner Herzog chuckling to himself while recalling the time he was shot during an interview.

OK, so the first opener, The Like, was pretty terrible. Their songs were all structured exactly the same, making them intensely boring. But whatever.

Next up was Final Fantasy. Basically a solo effort by Owen Pallett of Arcade Fire fame (he co-wrote the strings arrangement for their albums Funeral and Neon Bible), his performance alone made the show worth the money. He loops violin sounds to create amazing songs, all the while someone is showing a story through transparencies held over a projector. It was a really cool effect.

Then finally Bloc Party. Now, I wasn’t really expecting a lot from them. Their new album was less new wave, a bit slow, and when I saw them at the Greek Theatre last summer their playing was sloppy and the vocals were muddy. Everything has changed. Their playing was impeccable; they’re the type of band much more well-suited to the small-club-venue setting rather than the whole outdoor 2,000 person audience. They played every single one of their best songs in a lengthy hour and 15 minute set. At the Greek, I felt Bloc Party was very intimidated by their opening bands, MEW and Broken Social Scene. MEW I might let slip by as an opener, but Broken Social Scene is a huge band, way bigger than Bloc Party was at the time.

This will probably be the last time I see them.
Why’s that?
‘Cause they’re so mainstream now that I’ll never be able to get tickets.
They’ll probably be filling up the Staples Center not too long from now.

Despite their lackluster live performance a few months ago, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah‘s first eponymous album is my favorite album ever. I can sit down and listen to it all the way through without so much as moving a finger; I fall into a state of utter calmness as I walk through each song as if they were each part of a trail finally culminating to a grand view of the entire world below.

Menomena do doo dododo. Menomena do do dodo. Front and center at the shadiest venue I’ve been to yet was a band renown for its catchy weirdness and the use of a bass sax. I mean, seriously, it’s one of the silliest sounding instruments ever used in a band, but it contributes to the overall sound nonetheless. I am speaking of none other than Menomena at the Echo.

First and foremost: find the venue. No signs, all the billboards in Spanish, 8 pm and black as pitch, where the hell could this place be?

Oh yeah, you see that neon sign which isn’t glowing that says Restaurant? Well there’s a white door underneath it. That’s the uh… entrance.

Luckily, the acoustics were great inside (at least they were in front of the stage) and the outside really didn’t do the disco-ball-smoking-room-out-back venue dubbed “The Echo” justice.

Sidenote: Ever since I purchased the twelve dollar Etymotic Research earplugs, I haven’t been so paranoid about hearing loss at the shows I go to. The case being that hearing loss runs in the family and it would be majorly uncool to wear a hearing aid when I’m 30 rather than deal with earplugs when I’m 18.

The Parson Redheads opened first for Menomena. A nine-member psychedelic hippie supergroup who put on a pretty decent show. They might have done without the tambourine guy, but each of them contributed pretty much equally throughout their entire set. Besides, the dude was really into hitting that tambourine; he was almost lost in the waves of rhythm those lovable Redheads were dishing out.

Next up, Bon Savants. Bass guitar, drums, guitar, and barely audible keyboardist (only live). Highlight: guitarist looked like a combination of Tom Cruise in The Last Samurai and Jason Lee and could play the Junior SG like no other.

Finally Menomena came on. They played my two favorites right off the bat. The two songs which I they needed to play for me to be content with this show and not go home and bitch about how they didn’t play their best for a show in LA (TV on the Radio I’m looking at you). Pretty convenient coincidence, I guess.

A good drummer keeps rhythm. A great drummer sings while never missing a beat. Danny Seim is a great drummer. Not only did his drum beats sound identical to those on the album, but never before have I seen such a dedicated individual. Closing his eyes the entire time, his sticks never missing a beat, I could see he was doing this with a self-satisfaction that only comes with a love for what you do.

By the way, Menomena’s “No Encore Policy” has officially ended with LA.

The Art Brut/We Are Scientists show this saturday night is going to have the Spinto Band opening for them. Is it strange that I’m beginning to like the opener more than the headliners? Not that I don’t love Art Brut or We Are Scientists, but I just can’t get enough of the Spinto Band. Go out and listen to some of their CD, Nice and Nicely Done, they might just be your new favorite band.

I’ve also come up with a few designs for the LP Club. Check ‘em out.