One Inch Punch - Pretty Piece of Flesh

Popping Fleas

I have a couple dogs and cats and, as they are prone to do, they get the occasional flea. I have a flea comb that does a great job of rooting out the tiny vermin. And I am, point of fact, an ace flea comber. Most times, I simply pull the dog hair and fleas from the comb after each passing, put the wad in the toilet, pee on it when I'm done, then flush the whole thing. Occasionally, though, I like to take an individual flea, particularly one that is obviously "with children," put it between my thumbnails, and "pop" it, sort of like it was some free-range, insect zit. If I get a really good one, a copious amount of blood and flea fetuses will explode across my nails. Aside from the sanitary issues (I wash my hands for about 17 minutes after doing this), I derive a great deal of pleasure from this little exercise in flea execution/torture. And, no, I'm not some sadist gets off on crushing living things. But fleas. Come on. They're fucking FLEAS! They cannot possibly have a legitimate purpose other than making one of my Pugs get itchy butt, making him squirm around in obvious discomfort and frustration because his fat little torso will not permit him to get his flat face anywhere close to his ass to chew the fleas like tapioca. So, fuck you, fleas. You suck. I hate you. And I enjoy popping you and aborting your flea babies.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT - THIS RECORD IS GOOD!

Look, Diamond Eyes isn't going make new Deftones fans out of anyone, though it may bring some fans back into the fold, particularly those who found the 2004 eponymous record or 2006's Saturday Night Wrist too experiemental or "weird." This is not to suggest it's a regression; quite the opposite. Diamond Eyes marks a distinct maturing of Deftones as a band and is their first album since White Pony where they sound genuinely comfortable in their own skin.

This is a moodier affair than the last two records. These guys like to create shadows and fog, bending light around corners, stirring stark blacks, whites, and colors in neo-psychedelic, metallic bursts. Given the tragic circumstances that are the genesis of this record (bass player Chi Cheng was nearly killed in a 2008 car accident and the nearly then-complete Eros was indefinitely shelved in favor of a whole new record with "temporary" fill-in, Sergio Vega and new producer, Nick Raskulinecz), it could have been a big pity party or, at a mimimum, a "serious" record, reflecting on mortality and whatnot. The kind of record singer-songwriters make when they turn 66. Thankfully, Deftones brushed themselves off, licked the wounds, and looked inward to draw on what has always made them much more than their peers in the "Nu-Metal" movement.

There is a lot of propulsive, fat guitar work by Stephen Carpenter and the now-obligatory vocals by Chino Moreno that alternate between soft cooing and vocal-cord shredding. The title track is just over 3:00 of bone-crushing stomp that lets off the pedal for a strikingly pretty chorus. From there, the album flows quickly (it's just over 41:00) and never drags. There are detours off the established blueprint. "Prince" harkens back to White Pony with Abe Cunningham's stunning percussion and Carpenter's angular, slashing guitars, while "Beauty School" begs to be remixed for clubs - seriously. And while they've never made any secret of their 80s black-mascara-and-finger-nail-polish fetish, "Sextape" finally achieves full-blown moping glory. Robert Smith would love to have written something this good for any of the last four or five Cure records.

Full of taught rhythms and genuine grooves, ephemeral shifts and colorful atmospherics fans have come to expect, Diamond Eyes achieves more than it probably should. Even though this is only the band's sixth studio LP, it feels like it could be their tenth or more. It's the sound of a band at the height of its prowess as songwriters and players. It takes risks that don't sound risky and it offers rewards in its most intimate, as well as its most ornate and bombastic, moments. For metal fans or just those who like to hear the guitars cranked up really fucking loud every now and again, this album will not disappoint. And for longtime Deftones fans, this record is a remarkable reaffirmation that your faith was never misplaced.

* For downloaders, buy the "deluxe" edition off Amazon.com for an extra buck - you get two great covers; The Cardigans "Do You Believe" and Japan's "Ghosts" with the former slightly better than the latter.

OK, I Admit It - I Like European-style Social Democracy

I read a piece today by Patrik Jonsson of the Christian Science Monitor about what the "tea party movement" really wants. Jonsson writes: "The movement, in its essence, is about safeguarding individual liberty, cutting taxes, and ending bailouts for business while the American taxpayer gets burdened with more public debt. It is fueled by concern that the United States under Mr. Obama is becoming a European-style social democracy where individual initiative is sapped by the needs of the collective." I generally agree with his summation. I also agree that it's time for progressives, liberals, and those who do favor European-styled social democracy to stop denying that that is our ultimate goal. Let's just put it out there and, ultimately, the country will either accept it or reject it. I don't know which way it will go.

But, here's what has been nagging at me for some time and which I've only recently begun to distill into (what I hope is) a coherent theory: at its core the ideal of libertarian individualism says the wants/needs/hopes of the individual should remain superior to the needs/wants/hopes of the collective. I get that. On the other hand, in families and close-knit neo-family structures, we routinely place the needs/wants/hopes of the "collective" over the needs/wants/hopes of the individual. More than that, we encourage this sort of selflessness in the family structure. We praise family members who forego their individual path (either temporarily or sometimes permanently) to help the entire family. Fathers and mothers who work jobs beneath their intelligence or potential so that their children will have greater opportunity are generally seen as heroes and their sacrifice is praised.

My question to the "tea party movement" and to Libertarians, generally, is this: why is placing the wants/needs/hopes of the whole over those of the individual when done in the family or neo-family structure praised and held up as an example of what makes families and the familial structure so special and so necessary, when that same principle is not just undesirable, but a motivation-sucking evil when looked at in the context of the individual and society as a whole? In other words, selflessness is the cornerstone of family, whereas selfishness is the cornerstone of liberty.

As someone who belongs to a neo-family structure where individuals have frequently gone without for the benefit of the whole, I agree with the praise of this ideal and behavior. I also do not see that it sucks from individual members the desire to achieve. It's simply that the desire to achieve is tied to a desire to see the family flourish and thrive. And in that flourishing family, the individual almost always finds fulfillment that is otherwise lacking when the focus is solely upon the self.

What I cannot understand is the insistence by conservatives, Libertarians, and those sympathetic to the "tea party" ideals and/or opposed to European-styled social democracy that applying the principles of self-sacrifice and selflessness to society as a whole will inevitably lead to sloth, reliance on "hand outs" and no ambition. I might agree with that if I believed one can only be motivated by selfish interests - the notion that if I cannot personally and directly benefit, I have no desire to do it. To me, that is a strikingly grim assessment of human nature. The fundamental premise of that belief system is that people are so inherently selfish and self-interested that if they cannot amass great personal gains from their efforts, they will simply do nothing and let others work. I really just don't buy that. I also don't buy the "all or nothing" concept. Would Bill Gates or Warren Buffett or Dolly Parton really be lazy people lacking in ambition and motivation to achieve if their efforts weren't met with such enormous monetary rewards? Do tea partiers and Libertarians really believe this? I think some of them do. I also think some of them base their worldview on their own selfishness and project that upon everyone else.

Now, I understand that what I'm suggesting is that individuals are/can be/should be (take your pick) motivated by something more than personal gain in order to be ambitious and to achieve. Many will say, "Well, yes, that's just human nature and if you deprive people of that they will eventually jettison their innate self-reliance and resort to relying on others." But we already rely on others and others rely on us. It happens every day in the family or neo-family structure. And many of the same conservatives and Libertarians who vehemently oppose socialistic democracy uphold that as a fundamentally good thing. I don't see them as being mutually exclusive. I believe that the individual members of society will be happier if the focus of his or her efforts is not, first, what benefits "me" but, first, what benefits "us all." There can be tremendous benefit to the "me" AND benefit to "us all" and they need not cancel out one another.

At the end of the day, I find I am a happier person when I am helpful to others. I do not like needing assistance, but I accept that sometimes I do and I am grateful that my family is there for me. This leads me to favor the concept of European-styled social democracy. Finally, to those who would answer that they don't like or want the government imposing generosity upon them and that if left to their own devices they will be generous and voluntarily give to the collective, so the result will be the same and the state is not part of the equation, I say, respectfully, bullshit. Look back to the time when the U.S. really was a "sink or swim" country with no meaningful social safety net or government benefits. If people did not have family to support them, they were simply left to fend for themselves and if they failed, they died. Period. It happened. Personally, I find that an unacceptable way for a society that considers itself even somewhat advanced to conduct itself. But, that is my right and my opinion.

So, I am going to stop mincing words and avoiding the direct question: Do I favor European-styled social democracy over individual-based libertarianism? Yes. Yes, I do.

Mr. Sweet Makes Me Smile...

even when he's writing about the ugly truth or just your garden-variety assholes. Anyway, I'm listening to 100% Fun right now and I forgot how fucking amazing this record is. It is heaven to me - a perfect blend of Beatles and Cheap Trick. Anyway, Matthew Sweet rocks and if you think he doesn't you can eat a big back of dicks (or whatever insult Ice-T hurled at Aimee Mann). While I'm at it, I admit to liking Ice-T, even if he is possibly the worst thing that happened to TV since AfterMash. But Aimee Mann has more talent in her toenail clippings than that douchebag rapper could hope to have. In case I'm not clear, Fuck Ice-T. WFTFW - Wrong Faggot To Fuck With.

Woke Up with a Monster - 2 Steps Forward 1.5 Back

Though, technically, Busted is Cheap Trick’s first 90’s record, it was little more than 1988’s Lap of Luxury Part II. And when the sequel didn’t match the sales of the predecessor, Epic Records dropped the band from its roster. Recognizing that the Cheap Trick still had quite a bit of good tread left on the tires, Warner Bros. came calling. Unfortunately, shortly after they signed the band, the team that brought them aboard departed, leaving the band with a label that seemed utterly clueless of what to do with them. The relationship with Warner was short-lived, resulting in only one album that, once again, found the band trying to appease major label suits. However, unlike the disastrous last two outings with Epic, Woke Up with a Monster is easily the best Cheap Trick album, end-to-end, since One on One.

Warner Bros. wisely jettisoned producer Richie Zito and brought in veteran Ted Templeman. Templeman, best known for his work with Van Halen, seemed to re-energize the band (it probably didn’t hurt that they were finally out from under Epic’s oppressive black thumb) and let them simply play. Unlike Lap of Luxury and Busted, Woke Up with a Monster doesn’t sound “assembled” or dated; rather, it sounds like a real band, perhaps because Templeman wisely stripped away the 80’s production gimmicks and kept the arrangements simple, with minimal overdubs and very few keyboards. It’s not the debut album redux by any stretch; but it is a treat to once again hear how good Cheap Trick sounds when folks get out of the damned way and just let them play. It’s also nice to hear the band play songs they wrote entirely or almost entirely themselves. The problem, though, is that they didn’t write a full album’s worth of good material.

“My Gang” kicks things off on an energetic note and signals a move toward a heavier, feistier Trick. Bun E. Carlos’s drums sound better than they have since Dream Police, with a popping snare and genuine heft on the bottom end. The backing harmonies hearken back also to the Dream Police era and the song features a rousing, sing-along chorus. Robin Zander is, of course, in fine form (Hell, when is he not?), and Rick Nielsen sounds as ferocious as he’s sounded in a decade. So why isn’t this a classic? The lyrics. As they had done too often on 1985's Standing on the Edge, the lyrics just sound like second-rate metal, devoid of the wit, sarcasm, and humor that set Cheap Trick so far apart from its peers: “so you wanna be in my gang/better think it through/yeah, if you wanna be in my gang/you have to pay your dues.” This from the band that effortlessly wrote lines like, “dear father, don’t mother me/dear mother, don’t bother me.” And to confound matters, “My Gang” is followed by the title track, which is easily one of the band’s best songs. The unnerving riff and lyrics tell the story of familial discord. It’s almost “Surrender” told from the perspective of the kid who, after mommy and daddy’s good times and weed ran out, figured out they couldn’t stand one another, leaving him to deal with the wreckage. It’s a deceptively smart morality play. Petersson’s bass is mixed particularly well and Zander delivers one of his best ever performances.

There are several other good-to-very good songs here. The classic shoe-on-the-other-foot tale of the spurned lover who gets to savor seeing his ex suffer his fate, “Tell Me Everything,” is spectacular. Period. It deserved to be a hit, but, one again, label politics got in the way and promotion was all-but ignored by Warner Bros. “You’re All I Wanna Do” is drop-dead perfect. Simple. Straightforward. Earnest. And one of the catchiest songs they band has ever penned (even if it was with the help of some outsiders, including Survivor’s Jim Peterik). Unfortunately, Rick Nielsen and Jim Peterik follow it up with the insipid “Never Run out of Love” which is a generic ballad with not a single distinguishing feature. The band’s second stab at a radio-friendly ballad, “Didn’t Know I Had It” is much better. Co-written by Nielsen and Tom Cerney (back again from his respectable contributions to Lap of Luxury, “Let Go” and “Wrong Side of Love”), the song is a sort of an epilog to the life of the gigolo from “He’s a Whore.” On the other hand, it’s not an altogether original sentiment. “Gee, you were a really great gal and I let you get away.”

“Ride the Pony” finds the band experimenting with funk and, while the result isn’t a success in that arena, it earns points for effort. “Girlfriends,” on the other hand, is an example of the band letting loose its second-rate Mötley Crüe or third-rate AC/DC. Either way, it’s 4:32 you could spend doing something better, like scooping the cat box. “Let Her Go” fares a bit better, hitting the funk nail better than “Ride the Pony,” but it’s slight melody and forgettable lyrics undo what is otherwise a pretty decent song. The closers, “Cry Baby” and “Love Me for a Minute” once again find the band trying to mimic someone else. The former sounds like an Aerosmith outtake and the latter is reminiscent of the worst parts of the Stones’ Undercover record or, worse, Mick Jagger’s horrid She’s the Boss.

In the end, Woke Up with a Monster is hard to pin down. It’s not a “return to form” and it’s not an embarrassment. If anything, it’s the sound of band recognizing its mistakes of the past decade and doing an admirable job of correcting them. A major step in the right direction, but given how far they had descended from their self-established standards, Woke Up with a Monster is, to steal a line from Jon Stewart, like being the skinniest kid at fat camp.

97-65 AL Wild Card

Hope springs eternal and all that other sports cliche bullshit. Look, I'm not an idiot; the Yankees could buy Warren Buffett and Bill Gates if they wanted (and something tells me they've considered it), and the Red Sox are nearly as wealthy thanks to the plethora of "longtime" fans who've dumped tons of money into the team's coffers since 2004. So, realistically, do I think my beloved Rays are going to win the AL East? Not really. Is it possible? Sure. The Yankees' rotation looks fairly solid, but we all know A.J. Burnett could underachieve, as could C.C. "Michelin Man" Sabathia. That leaves Joba Chamberlain, Phil Hughes, Andy Pettite, Javier Vazquez, and Chan Ho Park to carry them into October.

Now, as for Boston, they've got Beckett and his child-bearing hips, Jon Lester, John Lackey, Dice-K, and Wakefield. I'd go with Boston's starting rotation over New York's, but the Rays have had pretty good success against Boston pitching (except Wakefield who's made us his bitch quite often for the last seven seasons (even if his ERA has been above 4.0 since 2003 and he is 43 years old, which is close to being an artifact in baseball years).

So, who do the Rays have? Well, we've got Jimmy Shields, who should improve over last year; Neimann, who continues to impress; Garza, who could be a lights-out ace, David Price, who's only getting better, and the prospect of Wade Davis. If Rafael Soriano delivers saves the way we hope, the Rays could have the dominant pitching staff in the East. Couple that with a stellar infield of Carlos Pena at 1B, Zobrist at 2B, Longoria at 3B, and Bartlett at SS, and an outfield of Crawford, Upton, and [insert utility guy here], we're a pretty freaking solid team.

Here are the keys: Upton HAS to hit better. Pena has to hit more consistently. The bullpen cannot blow leads, and the starters cannot have 38-pitch first innings (but that's less of a concern with Scott Kazmir in Anaheim).

Despite my optimism, I'm still predicting 97-65 and a Wild Card berth. Then, it's anybody's post-season to win.

GO RAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hurry Up May 18th!

5.18.10 marks the arrival of the long-awaited Deftones record, Diamond Eyes. For those unfamiliar with the backstory, the band's longtime bass player, Chi Cheng, we as nearly killed in a car accident in the fall of 2008. He has since then been in a semi-conscious state, but is making great progress. At the time of the accident, the band had basically completed an album slated for an October 2009 release, tentatively called Eros. After Chi's accident, the band shelved Eros and started writing and recording a whole new record. So far, the title track and first single, Rocket Skates, have been released via the band's website and YouTube. Personally, I think it's amazing. It shows continued growth and maturity and says "fuck you" to the naysayers who always dismissed them as "nu-metal" shitrock.

For whatever reason, the embedding on the video will not let me post it here, but if you want to see it, go to YouTube and type in "deftones diamond eyes" and look for the one that says "full song with lyrics" It's got a creepy-assed white owl on the cover (which is apparently also the album cover, which kicks ass because owls fucking rock - they look gentle and nice, but in reality they're voracious hunters who will claw your eyes out and serve them as hors d'oeuves.

Throwing Muses - Underappreciated Brilliance?

This is not intended as a full-blown review of Throwing Muses' eponymous 2003 "comeback" album - just a little plug for those who might be interested. At this point, you either know Throwing Muses or you don't. Darlings of the late 80's indie scene, they crafted smart, articulate, sophisticated guitar-based pop, with just enough distortion to keep them from sounding "twee." After several personnel changes and all but given up for dead, band leader Kristin Hersh and the then-current incarnation of the band re-emerged in 2003 with a rather stunning record. Check our "Civil Disobedience" and "Solar Dip." Both offer fine examples of the overall sound and feel of this record. Throwing Muses isn't likely to convert anyone who finds indie rock too self-important, gloomy, or serious. But, if you thought Throwing Muses were left for dead after Tanya Donelly left to form Belly and Hersh concentrated on motherhood and her folk-leaning solo career, this is a great reminder of what a fantastic band they are.

Cheap Trick - All Shook Up - A Mini-Masterpiece

Cheap Trick's foray into the 1980s, All Shook Up, is a unique and challenging record. Occasionally, very occasionally, the material is not up to the demands it places on the listener - or upon the band itself - but for the adventurous, it more than rewards repeated spins. It also occupies the same sort of territory as albums like Fleetwood Mac's Tusk or the Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique as works that were harshly attacked by many upon their release. And like those two examples, All Shook Up continues to make fools of its critics.

After three consecutive records produced by Tom Werman (save the live Cheap Trick at Budokan), for its fifth studio album the band turned over the reins to legendary Beatles producer, George Martin and Martin’s longtime engineer, Geoff Emerick. Given the band’s undeniable reliance on Fab Four sensibilities, the pairing made perfect sense. Ironically, in many ways the resulting album is one of their least Beatle-esque, though certainly it bears a significant Lennon/McCartney sway. More surprising still, All Shook Up is most satisfying when it pushes past the influences, establishes new voices, and adds to the band’s expanding and impressive sonic palette.

The opener, “Stop This Game,” fades in on a sustained piano note not dissimilar to the crescendo that closes “A Day in the Life.” That’s really where the comparison ends, as Robin Zander soars into the picture with a bravura performance that showcases his range and power, as well as his ever-increasing confidence and control. Martin punctuates Nielsen’s punch-drunk riff with a heavy dose of strings, horns, and piano; Tom Petersson’s bass is deft and nuanced; and Bun E. Carlos keeps the whole package from coming unwound. Fading out on the same note that carries it in, “Stop This Game” gives way to the brilliant “Just Got Back,” which clocks in at a hair over two minutes and is a marvel of compressed energy. Nielsen’s scratchy hook propels the listener through a cryptic tale of crime gone wrong. It has since become a live favorite among die-hard and casual fans, alike, giving Robin Zander the chance to make several vocal costume changes. “Baby Loves to Rock” rounds out the opening hat trick. With a foundation reminiscent of Elvis’s “All Shook Up,” “Baby Loves to Rock” is a smart, hard rocking paean to his baby’s veracious carnal appetite.

Nielsen makes no effort to hide his affection for John Lennon on the elegantly ethereal “World’s Greatest Lover,” and the result is possibly the band’s best ballad. Frequently and ignorantly dismissed as shallow bravado, its stately melody is saturated to perfection with a rich, full orchestral arrangement over which Robin Zander delivers a doomed soldier's heartrending farewell. Nielsen has said the song was written from the perspective of a man facing certain death in a war-torn foxhole, with the words intended for the lover he fears (or knows) he'll never see again. Knowing this makes the defiant declaration, "I'm comin' home, Darlin', Darlin'" all the more moving.

Other standouts include the maniacal, Who-inspired “Go for the Throat (Use Your Own Imagination)," on which Tom Petersson and Bun E. Carlos deliver a tag-team performance that is jaw-droppingly good; the straightforward heaviness of “Love Comes-a-Tumblin’ Down,” and “I Love You Honey but I Hate Your Friends." The former borrows liberally from Jimmy Page borrowing liberally from Chuck Berry, while the latter is the best Rod Stewart song he never recorded. A couple of missteps (“High Priest of Rhythmic Noise” goes nowhere and the closer, Bun E. Carlos’s drum-o-rama, “Who d’King” is pure filler) mar what is otherwise a solid and successful experiment.

Sadly, Petersson left the band after recording was finished and the relatively disappointing sales (it achieved “only” gold status, peaking at No. 24 on the Billboard album chart) led to a long period of discord with Epic Records and marked the end of the band’s mass commercial appeal (save the brief resurgence in the wake of “The Flame” in 1988). All Shook Up is the sound of a band in transition and which, at that time, was unafraid to take some risks and stray from what had started to become a somewhat formulaic approach to making records. Does it achieve all its goals? Of course not; the most daring albums seldom do. But, if you have a taste for albums that don't immediately deliver the payoff, you will be hard pressed to find a more worthy feast.