Soundtrack Saturday: “The Myth of Fingerprints”

Kelly Stitzel takes us home for the holidays with this week’s Soundtrack Saturday, and serves helpings of Rufus Wainwright, Bing Crosby, and Luna to go with the gloomy late-’90s ensemble drama The Myth of Fingerprints.

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Soundtrack Saturday: “The Myth of Fingerprints”

I love movies about dysfunctional families, though I’m not entirely sure why — while my family has its moments, we’re really not all that dysfunctional. At least I don’t think we are. But what better time of year than the holidays to indulge in films about families who need magazine racks for their issues? (I totally stole that line from Janeane Garofalo.)

I think every family gets a little crazy during the holiday season. The (mostly) forced family interaction and all the pressure to have fun can make even the most fun-loving, well-adjusted person a sniveling mess of frustration and unmet expectations.

I first saw The Myth of Fingerprints (1997) not long after it was released on video. I sought it out because a) I was a big ER fan and loved Noah Wyle, b) I was a big Julianne Moore fan (still am), and c) a good friend of mine who knew about my penchant for dysfunctional-family films told me I needed to watch it after he saw it in the theater.

I anxiously awaited its video release and rented it the weekend after it came out. I was blown away.

Named after “All Around the World or the Myth of Fingerprints,” a track on Paul Simon’s 1986 album Graceland, writer-directer Bart Freundlich’s feature-film debut tells the tale of an estranged, dysfunctional family reuniting for an uncomfortable and somewhat heartbreaking Thanksgiving.

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How Bad Can It Be? FLASHBACK: “The Biggest Loser Families”

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A Note on This Week’s Column: I’ve been sidelined by the Dreaded Deadline Doom this week, so there’s no new column, strictly speaking. But as a special treat — all right, to fill the gap in the schedule — I’m presenting here, for the first time, the very first How Bad Can It Be? ever written.

Jeff Giles first approached me about doing a column about a year ago — November 2008. We kicked around some concepts, knocking the premise into shape. To help me get a grip on it, I wrote a bunch of sample columns, including this one, about the then-current season of NBC’s The Biggest Loser. The start date for the column was eventually pushed back to January 2009, leaving this piece basically unpublishable — hopelessly past its sell-by date. And so it has sat on my hard drive until now. Hope you enjoy this peek behind the curtain — the Secret Origin of HBCIB?, if you will.

As this was to have been the inaugural column, it begins with a statement of purpose — one I find worth revisiting now and then…

I will not cop to charges of snobbery; I find my pop-culture thrills wherever I can. I freely admit, though, that I’m selective. Any consumer of media has to be, I think. There are only so many hours in a day, and so much to fill them with. It’s not so much that I’m actively avoiding anything; it’s just that there’s so much good stuff out there that I’ve not yet experienced — Infinite Jest, “Trout Mask Replica,” Kurosawa’s Rashomon — that I’ve got to be choosy with the little time I have above ground. And because I write about media from the perspective of an enthusiast, rather than a critic, I’m not obliged to watch or read and listen to anything in which I would otherwise have no interest.

In practice, that means gravitating towards a comfort zone. It’s a big zone, as these things go — I’m a pretty well-rounded guy — but in the great spectrum of mass media, it’s a relatively narrow bandwidth. Now, I can and do often enjoy myself when I venture out of that zone; but I always do so with mingled feelings of hope and dread. Part of me wonders, “Am I going to hate myself for watching this? Will I wish I could have this hour back?” And another part of me thinks, “Hey, you never know. This could be a keeper. And really, after all — how bad can it be?”

This column aims to answer that question. (more…)

CHART ATTACK!: 11/3/73

Folks, I’ll be the first to tell you that our last CHART ATTACK! was just a little depressing. Marky Mark? Ugh! Color Me Badd? Ugggggh! Bryan Adams? Uggggggghhhh!  Good news, though: I’m pleased to report that this week’s Top 10 is much, much better — sure, there are some mild clunkers, but the majority of these songs are absolutely fantastic. See if you agree as we attack November 3, 1973!

10. All I Know — Garfunkel   null
9. Space Race — Billy Preston
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8. Let’s Get It On — Marvin Gaye null
7. Ramblin’ Man — The Allman Brothers Band null
6. Heartbeat – It’s a Lovebeat — The DeFranco Family Featuring Tony DeFranco
5. Paper Roses — Marie Osmond
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4. Half-Breed — Cher null
3. Keep On Truckin’ (Part 1) — Eddie Kendricks null
2. Angie — The Rolling Stones null
1. Midnight Train to Georgia — Gladys Knight & the Pips null

10. All I Know — Garfunkel (download)

Following the breakup of Simon & Garfunkel in 1970, Art Garfunkel removed his focus from the music business; for three years, he focused on his acting career, appearing in Mike Nichols movies such as Catch-22 and Carnal Knowledge, taught mathematics at a private school in Connecticut, and studied classical music in Europe. Finally, in 1973, he assembled a group of songwriters (what, you thought he was going to write songs himself?) and recorded songs for a new album, entitled Angel Clare. The first single, “All I Know,” was written by Jimmy Webb (the first of many Garfunkel/Webb collaborations) and was his first solo entry on the Top 10 — and by “first,” I mean “only,” though he did have three #1 hits on the Adult Contemporary charts. The song is exactly what you’d expect: musically, it’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water” minus the bridge or troubled water, and lyrically, it’s deep into Mellow Gold territory. Art’s voice sounds a touch creepy here on the original, especially any time he gets near a low note. Still, it’s quite pretty, and you really can’t go wrong with songs like these, especially ones that feature Webb’s beautiful piano. The only thing I don’t understand is why, for his first few albums, Art was only billed as “Garfunkel.” Was he concerned that if he added the “Art,” people wouldn’t know who he was? How many Garfunkels are out there, really? If he wanted to capitalize on familiarity, perhaps he should have billed himself as “& Garfunkel.”

I found a nice video of Art Garfunkel performing “All I Know” on Saturday Night Live, but it’s on a Chinese website and I can’t figure out how to embed it. Still, it’s worth a watch; the song is much more effective in this stripped-down incarnation.

9. Space Race — Billy Preston

I personally had never heard “Space Race” before this week, but if you watched American Bandstand regularly, chances are you’ll recognize it as the music played during the mid-show commercial break, from 1974 until the show’s end. It worked great for that purpose, too — a sequel of sorts to 1972’s “Outa-Space,” “Space Race” is a thick slab of instrumental funk with a fantastic groove. But here’s the thing: on American Bandstand, you never got to hear more than a few seconds of the song. At around a minute and a half, it becomes pretty clear that a better title would have been “Holy Crap You Guys, I Just Got a New Keyboard and Look at All the Cool Sounds I Can Make, Wah Wah Wah Wah!” I can’t help but wonder if this song is what inspired Daryl Dragon to buy a Casio, and that just breaks my heart. Still, I can’t give Billy Preston too much grief. Apart from having the world’s greatest afro, the man was an unbelievable talent. And who doesn’t love the hell out of “Nothing From Nothing”?

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No Concessions: George Clooney Stares at “Goats”

Jon Ronson’s The Men Who Stare at Goats had the makings of a good movie. The journalist got hold of an interesting strange-but-true subject: the story of the First Earth Battalion, an Army/CIA initiative that, from the ’60s to the ’80s, explored “psychic warfare.” That is, training soldiers to read minds, walk through walls, and stare at hamsters and goats so long and hard they keeled over dead. I can see a documentary in the coming together of the New Age and the New World Order, or, fictionalized, a sci-fi epic. What we have, instead, is a just-for-the-hell-of-it military satire, so shapeless it just sort of flops around for an hour-and-a-half, oblivious to attention spans and entertainment value.

This is the feature directing debut of Grant Heslov, who, with George Clooney, co-wrote the Oscar-nominated screenplay of Good Night, and Good Luck. Clooney co-stars as Lyn Cassady, whose eyebrow-raising tales of being the army’s prized goat whisperer attract flailing reporter Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor). Wilton, whose life and career are in tatters after his wife dumped him for an editor, wants to be embedded in Iraq, but instead winds up entwined with Cassady, who claims to be a member of the “New Earth Army” that is training “warrior monks” to literally brainstorm America’s enemies. But the program’s founder, uber-hippie Bill Django (Jeff Bridges) has gone missing, and the whole agenda is floundering due to petty grievances between the New Earth Army and a rival camp run by rebel psychic Larry Hooper (Kevin Spacey), who is training his own elite squad. Hooper is wildly envious of Cassady, who is bent on finding his mentor, as Wilton ultimately finds himself. (more…)

Dw. Dunphy On… Playworld!

I am constantly amazed by what I choose to remember and choose to forget. The small, vital factoids that push me through a conversation drift like breath in 20-degree temperatures. The key word on the very tippity-tip of my tongue never gets out without the serious throwing of shapes and much anguish, yet I can still recall a Datsun commercial from sometime around the 1980s, featuring two Asian men calling themselves The Wong Bros. and announcing a year-end sell-a-thon. In Steve Martin-esque fashion, they shouted at the camera, shaking various degrees of late ’70s bling, “We’re the Wong Brothers! We are two party guys!” I’m dead serious about this.

Clearly this ad wouldn’t have a chance in hell if it was aired today. Even Six Flags came under fire last year for commercials with a barking Asian man rating “fun” situations – One Flag! Six Flags, more fun! This year, he was replaced by their creepy old (meaning younger person in old man prosthetics) dancing man character. If Nissan Motors resurrected those wacky Wongs, it would trigger a thermonuclear public relations implosion. This isn’t about political correctness or incorrectness, though. After several decades, the Wongs are still with me. As a piece of advertising, that means it was highly effective. As anything more than a jumping off point for this piece, though? Not so much. (more…)

Lo-Fi Mojo: Indian Wars

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It’s hard to dig up many details about Indian Wars. Hailing from Vancouver, these young garage punks are pretty much just getting started. As far as I know, they only have four recorded songs to their name, though a 7-inch is supposed to be coming out this month or next. Two of the songs are available below; the other two can be found on Indian Wars’ MySpace page. In addition to the four tunes, in the course of my, er, research, I also came across an interview with the band on a blog I’ve never heard of, and a couple of pictures.

Indian WarsWith a sound and lo-fi style reminiscent of the Black Lips or the King Khan & BBQ Show, whom regular readers know I also love, this quartet of Canadians bashes out a sloppy, upbeat garage groove that’s as fun as it is fuzzy. They claim influences as diverse as the Band, George Jones and the Dead Ghosts (another Vancouver garage punk band I’ll now need to check out). But, admittedly, their music sounds about as far away from Big Pink or Nashville as you can get. They’re also enamored of such ’60s garage rock stalwarts as the Seeds and the 13th Flood Elevators, obvious influences whose vibe you can actually hear as these skate punks bash and crash their way to a glorious noise.

They used to be called Strange Hands (hence the MySpace URL), but a “rad French band” already had claims to the moniker. So they changed their name to Indian Wars. Why Indian Wars? “Because Indians are badass.” Love it.

Indian Wars hasn’t been around long, they might not last past the time it takes to listen to their entire recorded output, and they may turn into an alt-country band before the new year, but for now, I’ll take what I can get.

Indian Wars – If You Want Me

Indian Wars – Pick You Up

Basement Songs: Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, “Stick With Me Baby”

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In the midst of all my mid-life reflection last week, I received an email from a guy I hadn’t heard from in raising-sand1twenty years. John* had tracked me down through the massive power of the Internet, so of course, I immediately directed him to the Basement Songs (we writers are kind of narcissistic that way). After a friendly exchange of e-mails that detailed an overview of our lives, John checked out a couple of my columns and wrote me a follow up e-mail. He told me to disregard the previous e-mail as bullshit. He then wrote one of the most confessional letters that has ever shown up in my Gmail inbox. I’m not going to go into details because his life isn’t an open book like mine (again, narcissism), but I will say that John had a rough time in the ’90s. Happily, through the love of a good woman who never gave up on him, he’s dug himself out and now leads a happier life.

I understood what he was talking about. I went through a period of months a couple years ago in which I suffered through a paralyzing depression. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel and each day it got harder and harder to get up and face life. I, too, am lucky that I had a good woman and good friends to help me through the times and to right the course of my life. Have you ever experienced that? Have you ever tripped into the dark sides of your psyche and dragged your loved ones with you? If you haven’t been through that hell, then you, my friend, are fortunate. (more…)

The Chronicles of Doom: New Releases

It’s been a while since I’ve opened the great grimoire of doom and inscribed a new entry.  I’ve been busier than a kobold berserker with St. Vitus dance.  Since we last met (over brimming tankards of dark ale), a lot of new music has been released, and I’ve written up some reviews and recommendations to serve you well on your journey… (more…)

Revival House: “We Are Not Alone”

The summer of 1977 gave us Star Wars, but later that year TV ads started cropping up for something else entirely — something involving UFOs, with a “first,” “second,” and “third kind” terminology I wasn’t familiar with. What the hell is this? I wondered. A documentary? Or one of those cheesy “Schick Sunn Classic Pictures” pseudo-documentaries about Noah’s Ark or Bigfoot?

It turned out that in the realm of 1977 sci-fi blockbusters, Star Wars was not alone.

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You Again?: Winger, “Karma”

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If Kip Winger hadn’t been around to make music in the ’80s, someone would have had to invent him.

Prettier than Lita Ford, with teeth whiter than Utah, the most perfect hard rock name not ending in “Dokken,” and a gift for the kind of leering lasciviousness that sounds about as dangerous as milk (and sounds great on the radio besides), Winger entered the charts in 1988 like Wilt Chamberlain joining the NBA in 1959 — in other words, with so many unfair natural advantages that they should have created an entirely new league. Seriously, “Seventeen”? Winger was like a meticulously stubbled, hair metal version of Chuck Berry, reducing rock & roll to its key thematic components (specifically, young girls and the gross older dudes who love them) while still allowing room for a little flash. His music bore the strong scent of Velveeta, but people have been buying that shit since 1918. Other bands might have made double entendres more successfully (see: “Cherry Pie”), but none of them had the same combination of pop-grounded metal and cheerleader good looks (see: any picture of Jani Lane). If he had played his cards right, Winger could have been one of the all-time legends.

But noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. (more…)