Moz on the NFL Network?!

I can't decide if it's disconcerting or incredibly cool that the moaning troubadour's tune (and one of my favorite Moz tracks) "Every Day Is Like Sunday" graces the NFL Networks' new promos.



Granted, it's someone covering Morrissey. But still. Interesting.

Goodbye Mr. Newman

Even though death is an inevitability for us all, it's always sad when a legendary figure dies.

Paul Newman Dies at 83


I'll have to watch The Sting in memoriam soon.

Don't Bother.

Choke.

Was not good.

It had incredible potential and a great cast (love Angelica Houston and Sam Rockwell); but a piss-poor script adaptation on top of a botched editing job really screwed this one.

Shame.

Cassettes Won't Listen

Aside from loving their name, I found their remix of Pela's "Lonesome Hearts" the summer car jam of 2007.

Now I have another reason to adore. This music video:

Freeze and Explode


They're damn catchy.

Stream their latest tracks:
http://www.cassetteswontlisten.com/

No, You're the Dummy!

Last week we watched Dummy, a sentimental little indie flick staring Adrien Brody as a young man who quits his 9-5 office job to fulfill his dreams of becoming a ventriloquist. It was cute, and pretty funny; costars were Illeana Douglas and Jessica Walter (of Arrested Development fame) and both never cease to crack me up.

However, more notably than the movie I couldn't help but notice the entire soundtrack was reigned by a certain male singer/songwriter's whine; starting with the opening sequence and peppered in at least 2-3 other moments into the movie as well. His timbre was reminiscent of an early-90s Twin Cities Dave Pirner / Paul Westerberg variety; but I couldn't quite place where I'd heard that voice before.

So I set about some research and found the guy's name is Mike Ruekberg. I open the flash site, and on the very front page I get my answer.

His most current project is The Red Button, who I fell in love with last year; or more specifically, with their retro-tastic single "She's Going Down." I have to say, his partnership with this fellow Seth proves a much richer, and far more interesting and fun audible experience than his solo work ever could have been.

Though I can only strongly recommend the Button, you can stream sounds from both on their-respective-spaces:

http://www.myspace.com/mikeruekberg
http://www.myspace.com/theredbuttonband

POOP!

Sunny Season 4 starts tooooniiiiiight!!!

A Method Actor Prepares

Ahhhh, Premium Movie Channels. Whether or not you actually do, you have to love them. They bring you little nuggets like 10 Items Or Less when you can find nothing better to do with an hour and a half.

It wasn't anything dazzling or particularly moving; but it was enjoyable. At first glance, the movie is just satirical view into how out of touch with reality not just actors, but movie stars become; but really, it's more than that. Morgan Freeman plays the role with such grace and charm -- not an air of snottiness -- that it almost ends up being a love letter from Hollywood to the real world.

Plus, the female lead is super cute.

Here's the trailer.



I suggest you check it out on SHOHD. If you're lucky enough to get it free, like we do. If not, just rent it. Netflix it. Whatever.

Sounds Of My Life: Raining In Baltimore

I can't hear this song and not think about Baltimore.

Not because the name of the city is in the title, but because it reminds me of a very specific moment in my life that just happened to be after a 3 day stay in the greater Baltimore / DC area.

I was traveling alone back to St. Louis, sitting in the middle seat of a three-seat row; the plane was shuffling toward the runway of Reagan National when this song seeps into my earbuds ... at a moment I least needed it to.

It struck me during the opening line so violently that it took every fiber of my being not to break down, sobbing, amongst the complete and total strangers who surrounded me.

The weekend, while generally a fun trip with friends, had been such a colossal failure on so many levels. Instead of a momentary escape from the disaster that was my life back in St. Louis, it ended up being just another painful reminder of how horribly bitter and meaningless life can be.

So here I was, life in shambles; sad song stinging very much in the foreground of what already felt like such a desolate, lonely existence ... stranger in a strange town, surrounded by strangers ... rain falling outside the window, one seat over to my right, four and an aisle to my left.

It rained, snowed, sleeted, every day that weekend; from the day I arrived up until well after I left.

Even if I wanted to skip the song over, I couldn't. The moment seemed too appropriate to ignore. The plane nosed homeward, no ... a house no longer a home. The moment suddenly was a glaring reminder of how I had to contend not only with my own heartbreak, new found borderline addictions, past failures and regrets, but also the heartache of knowing that it wasn't only my relationships that weren't immune to such devastation.

It represented the perfect moment of uncomfortable, unwarranted, unwelcome solitude; so eerily in tune with the song's theme, forget the spooky coincidence of the song title. And while instinct would rather leave me weeping for hours on end in response, much like my life at the time, I forced myself to suck it up.

To stare into the headrest of the seat in front of me, bite my lip, force those tears back ... and just let the moment pass.

One note at a time.

Artist: Counting Crows

This is a new feature section that I plan on recurring at least monthly, because I like the idea so much ... it just dawned on me in the car trip home from Ellisville this afternoon, when I realize how much of my life I relive through song.

Clever

Back in the day, when I was an employee of an independent music store, instead of helping customers or restocking shelves or even bothering to dust the oodles of filthy old jewel cases that sat out in the bins, my coworkers and I would stand around behind the counter and wax philosophical on just how incredibly genius rock was, and, in turn, how genius we were that we could make such observations.

The subject of today's blog comes courtesy of Diana, thank goodness for her keen internet-news eye. It reminds me of those carefree days of my youth as music store manager. And quite honestly, after the day I've had, I really needed the laugh.

Two Minutes and 42 Seconds in Heaven

Just go read it already.

Or don't.

Whatever you do, for crying out loud, stop sending me photographs of the Twin Towers going down in the fiery blazes of hell. I watched them, on a loop, for 2 full weeks on TV 7 years ago. Those are images this tiny, albeit sentimental, pea brain of mine would rather not retain.

I Am Still Dreaming Of Your ... Ghost.

Oooooooh, yeah!

Everclear is headlining Taste of St. Louis this year!!!

It's ON!

Yes. I have guilty pleasures too, just like the lot of you. So screw you with your judgments. I'm going to get to see them for freeeee!

So Long, Summer.

In tribute to the end of summer, which while is not officially until the equinox, but in my mind will always be book ended by two holidays -- Memorial Day and Labor Day -- here is my summer 2008 mix tape.

A collection, in no particular order, of the most influential and infectious tracks that had me singing at the top of my lungs all summer ... whenever no one else was looking.

I Am John Loney, Dear
Holes The Hobo Wives
Finders Keepers The 75s
When U Were Mine Cyndi Lauper
I'm Not Going To Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You Black Kids
The Breeze Dr. Dog
We Had It Right Nellie McKay feat. K.D. Lang
Chains Sons and Daughters
C'mon, C'mon The Von Bondies
You Don't Understand Me The Raconteurs
Exactly Where I'm At Ween
A Minha Menina Os Mutantes
Hesitating Beauty Billy Bragg & Wilco
Ears Like Golden Bats My Teenage Stride
Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? She and Him

Now, Mother Nature; bring on the Fall!

Ice Cream Is Going To Save The Day. Again.

Having a fiance with a ice cream addiction is difficult. Okay, maybe conflicting is more the term. Because, while I am not addicted, I definitely have a humongous sweet tooth that doesn't need the encouragement.

Last night; however, after our divine dinner of falafel and kebabs at Cafe Natasha on South Grand, for dessert we decided to stop in at the new icecremaria -- Emack and Bolio's -- whose banner boasted the slogan, "Ice Cream For The Connoisseur."



It did not disappoint. Better yet, it made me giddy with delight that my order was nearly fat-free!

I ordered the Key Lime frozen yogurt (made with skim milk and lime juice) ... when I asked for a sample, I was expecting soft serve. Instead, I get a popsicle stick sample jammed with a hard ice cream that is so smooth and creamy and deliciously lime, not to mention full of bits of graham cracker crumbs running through it. In other words, it did not at all give the impression of a frozen yogurt.

Or in other words, a perfect frozen yogurt. This is definitely what I order. In a sugar cone, please.

It occurred to us that it was a franchise / chain as we perused the artwork on the walls; which made me more curious about the business, since I really try to stay away from chain food.

On further investigation, it seems to be that the Boston-based company's M.O. is making "socially conscious" treats that contain no artificial ingredients; and every frozen treat is made fresh weekly in the stores.

So while the local mainstay will always be Mr. Ted Drewe's, I'm certainly not above satisfying our household's cravings/addictions over at E&B's again.

9021-Whoa.

Lame, but this is the phrase that comes to mind when I open to its photo shoot in this week's EW.



The photography is so high-contrast, the poses far more provocative than your typical EW spread. It was so similar to high-fashion model photography that I had to check out the guy, Guy Aroch to be exact, online. He makes Jennie and Shannen look like super foxes; and I don't even think either (especially Doherty) are especially attractive.

His website only has a link to e-mail.

Then I found this:

http://www.afg-w.com/guyaroch/beauty.html

He does pretty gorgeous stuff.

WHY?!

Do I not have the Sundance Channel?! Something must be done to remedy this state of affairs.

Immediately.

The Fantastic Mr. Anderson

Zissou is on HDNet films tonight, which prompts the question, "When is Wes Anderson's next film going to be released?"

I'm in love with his films and adored The Darjeeling Limited, regardless of what the ass clowning critics may have said. I knew his next feature was going to be an animated full-length.

But a stop-motion animated adaptation of a Roald Dahl novel?

Where do I sign?

Most impatiently of all, when?!

A Man-Made Crop Circle?! Who Knew?!

Ironically enough, this story was brought to my attention moments after I'd just completed chapter one of Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation.

I know, I know. I haven't read it yet. What can I say? I'm a slacker, and only recently in a non-Sedaris brand of non-fiction type of mood.

Regardless, the hubbub is that Papa John's has apparently commissioned, and completed, a man-made crop circle cut into a wheat field backing up to Denver International Airport for the viewing pleasure of -- er, and to hype the new all-wheat crust to -- all who visit ... including attendees of the Democratic National Convention.

The irony was simply too strong for me to not comment.

The Dark Knight

It's the weekend, so I'll keep this short.

I finally saw it last night, and I have to say, the new Batman movie is pretty damn awesome.

Go see it. On a very big screen, with a very good sound system. Like The Moolah.

Can. NOT. Wait!

There are some TV shows that make life worth living. This is one of them.



Here's the Season 4 teaser!

Czech This Out: Miou Miou

Usually when I hear the words "French pop," I immediately imagine scenes of Japanese girls with green hair having brightly-colored martinis in a space-aged bar at the edge of the universe.

Anyone who has ever listened will know why. For those of you who haven't it's because ... it's just ... so spacey. Airy. Background music, but still listenable and irresistibly charming; even if you don't know French. Or maybe because you don't know French.

So it's a surprise to me to find a group making lush French pop to the beat of a different drummer; a far cry from Dmitri from Paris' outlandish sound, Miou Miou brings a more provincial, earthy feel; likely due to their Czech Republic upbringing.

It's even more evident in the utterly adorable video for "A l'été de la Saint-Martin '68."



Miou Miou Online:
http://www.miou-miou.cz/news.htm

MiouSpace:
http://www.myspace.com/mioumiou

Momma's Gotta Squeezebox

It was the summer of 1994; ah, I remember it as though it were yesterday. The sights, the smells ... most importantly, the sounds. One of the biggest hits that summer was Warren G. and Nate Dogg's "Regulate," and I knew it forwards and backwards; or so I thought. There was this one line that always troubled me ... I thought it was:

"I can't believe they're taking Lawrence Welk."

As it turns out, the lyric is, "I can't believe they're taking Warren's wealth." Which makes perfect sense, seeing as though he's talking about getting jacked.

In any event, today's videos come as a personal challenge from a friend to expand my reader demographic. The first is what Tom sent to me, a quite impressive performance by Myron Floren leading the band with his accordion in a 1967 episode of The Lawrence Welk Show.




To dispel the myth that the squeezebox is for golden oldies; however, I present a video of probably the most prolific female accordionistas of our time, Ms. Jenny Conlee of The Decemberists.




While the video quality isn't great, you can tell this girl is far more than skilled. I saw them in the Duck Room back in 2005 and she is by far the most impressive performer on stage; probably largely due to the fact that she's of a very dainty frame and only stands about 5' tall, giving her the appearance that she's wrestling the accordion rather than playing it.

While The Decemberists widely appeal to, well, pretty much only band and theatre geeks ... Jenny's proof positive that rocking out on the accordion isn't a thing of the past.

It's just still pretty uncool.