Otto Muck, The Secret Of Atlantis: This is the only book I've ever read entirely off of screens (computer or phone, via Internet Archive; I've never used a Kindle), the only book I've ever read that was translated entirely using Google Translate and is therefore completely riddled with dozens of errors on every page, the only book I've ever read that was non-ironically pseudo-scientific, and the only book I've ever read written by a Nazi. Muck was a German scientist and inventor who helped develop the U-boat schnorkel and who wrote this book in German in 1954 and it was not translated until 1978, a year after Eloy released the Atlantis-themed concept album Ocean, which ends on the 15-minute Pink Floyd-knockoff epic "Atlantis' Agony At June 5th-8498, 13 P. M. Gregorian Earthtime." They got that time and date from Muck, who used various scientific disciplines to discern that that hour (what time zone?) is precisely when the Sun, Moon, Venus and Earth lined up on day zero of a new age in the Mayan calendar, thus causing an asteroid to fly out of its orbit and into the Gulf of Mexico, where it punctured the Earth's crust like a waterbed and caused a gigantic eruption/tsunami that wrecked Atlantis, which was located where the Azores are now (those are the tops of Atlantean mountains, among countless other speculations in the book about Atlantis.) If there's any fascination in reading such a thing, it's that it marks the overly speculative dividing line between science and pseudo-science just like William Faulkner's Absalom Absalom! is said to mark the boundary between modernism and postmodernism--Muck really meant all this stuff, and uses real science to arrive at a total fantasy of a conclusion; how different is this from, say, Erich von Daniken or his ilk? I haven't read that stuff and will likely not read any more about Atlantis; I think my OCD obsession with specific dates/times for legendary or apocryphal events attracted me to this (just like it did "Candle Cove" and Polybius.) Or maybe I just liked that Eloy epic, which I've listened to dozens of times since finishing with Ocean, even though it's a totally pathetic rip-off of about five Pink Floyd epics at once. Yeah, that's the ticket!
TV:
Mike Judge's Beavis & Butt-Head: That's the official name for the new 2022 episodes, even though Judge is just a producer and (at age 60!) voice actor on the show--all 23 new episodes were written and directed by other people. Not that it makes a hell of a lot of difference--this is exactly as good I thought it would be, which is to say it's damn near totally superficial because it predictably does next to nothing new with these characters, just like it never did before, and it scrapes by on a few chuckles at best. They're stupid, they cause disasters, they never really get into trouble for it, Butt-Head pounds the crap out of Beavis, lots of physical pratfalls and the like, you know the drill. The most lauded episode was a literal dumpster fire coming to life and telling Beavis to be a good person, but I didn't see what was special about it at all, aside from no Butt-Head. All that's going to stick with me from this season is a weird episode where some little anime-looking girl inexplicably falls in love with Beavis and burns a building down because he doesn't know what to do with that information. Somebody should really do a movie about that.
MOVIES:
Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me: Not bad for what it is, though the amount of time spent on various parts of the band's history may come as a surprise. About the first half hour is spent on the setup of the late-60s Memphis scene and the founding of Ardent Studios which is of some interest, but Alex Chilton's time with the Box Tops, y'know, when he sang a #1 hit, is sped through. I found out that Chris Bell and Andy Hummel were roommates in college, but I watched this documentary twice and didn't hear any mention of Ice Water, the band they were in together with Jody Stephens. You get stories about both Chilton and Bell having to work crappy menial jobs after Big Star went kaput (and a hilarious anecdote about the guys from the dBs trying to get Chilton to visit Bell at the restaurant he worked at, and failing) and pathetic footage of "Axel Chitlin" trying to go "punk" in the late 70s and slaughtering "The Letter" onstage, but Chilton's years afterwards, including the generally hated 2005 reunion album, breeze by in a few minutes. I suppose it does a better job than anything else I've ever read or watched on the subject of showing how Big Star's failure really cracked Chilton in half for good and haunted everything else he ever did, and it's longer than most documentaries like this typically are. If you're a fan of the band, check it out; if not, you're on your own.
The Who: Live At The Isle Of Wight 1970: I decided to just watch this 1998 documentary a couple of times rather than listening to the 1995 (96?) CD version seven or eight times like I did Live At Leeds, even though the movie is missing about half of the live Tommy (still no "Cousin Kevin" either way--why not?!?) and other stuff like "Naked Eye" isn't presence. But gee, you get "Water"--isn't that a great tune? (god no, it's an overlong stupid bore!) I think I made the right choice anyway, unless someone wants to point out to me how the CD version of the live Tommy smokes the Leeds version. Enough of the film (85 minutes total) is present to give me a good idea of what it was like during their heyday, and...you know, I basically get the idea, but I think I keep the live Who at a bit of a distance, for all their importance. Their stage presence is...well, Pete jumps around a lot and windmills, and Keith thrashes away, and it's cool to watch the first couple of times; Roger, meanwhile, just does the same arm-raising/mike-thrusting gestures over and over, and the camera never focuses on John. This was worth watching and hearing, but I'm not going to be revisiting live Who dozens of times and proclaiming them the greatest live band ever.
West Side Story: The 1961 original, not the Spielberg movie that people avoided. I went into this expecting to hate it, but I didn't, at least not entirely. I like a couple of the songs, I s'pose--"Gee, Officer Krup-ke--KRUP YOU!!!" got a huge laugh out of me, for the obvious reason, and I sort of chuckled too at the "America" song, because Sondheim's lyrics are actually kind of clever, and even relevant. The rest...well, you can have it. Reading modern reviews of this was hilarious: Ebert put it in his Great Movies collection but seems to damn near dislike the thing; there are countless reviews that start out praising the technical work on the film before the reviewer sticks their hands in their pockets and admits that the site of gang members "fighting" by dancing is pathetic and silly; nobody likes poor Richard Beymer at all, and then there's Natalie Wood, torn apart for playing "Puerto Rican" by every woke liberal on Earth. I don't know who the real "author" of WSS is anyway--Arthur Laurents, Jerome Robbins, Stephen Sondheim, Leonard Bernstein and Robert Wise all seem to be jostling for possession of this film, but what do I care.
Ted K: This 2021 film featured Sharlto Copley from District 9 donning a whiny Woody Allen-ish accent to play the Unabomber, Theodore J. Kaczynski, but you're not going to hear him talk much in the film. It's mostly about his lonely daily life, as he tries to cook food and live in the woods while occasionally venturing out into society to buy books, work a crappy job, call his mother to beg for money and whine about how he never got to second base, watch TV, or look up people in the phone book to mail bombs to. His arrest at the end isn't played as a huge moment that the film builds up to, which is kind of nice, but the overall effect of the film, in spite of whatever subtlety the director went for or whatever Copley went through to play Ted, is just kind drab, closer to Gus Van Sant's awful pseudo Kurt Cobain movie Last Days than anything else I can think of. Although Ted is still alive and hasn't really been forgotten (some people insist his manifesto is still worth reading, even though they won't condone what he did, so he's still kinda topical), I'm guessing most of you skipped this film, and it didn't make many waves and I'm not recommending it.
ALBUMS:
David Bowie, Blackstar: I guess this is slightly better than the sum of its parts, and I am tempted to say that, yes, Bowie's death does make me bump it up a point, if only because a)his impending death absolutely informed what this album is, and b)what this album is makes for an interesting final statement from an artist who deserves credit for being able to pull such a thing off in his late 60s. I only count two great songs--the propulsive "'Tis A Pity She's A #####" is honestly scary with that rising chord sequence and cacophony, and the closing argument "I Can't Give Everything Away" kinda breaks my heart even though it's actually sort of an energetically dramatic song, not a spare, quiet final lament. There's also "Girl Loves Me" (pretty ominous) and "Dollar Days" (reminded me a bit of post-rock-era Talk Talk somehow?). I think the two "hits," "Blackstar" and "Lazarus," are sadly the two weakest cuts. The former has some good ideas but kinda loses me over its 10 minutes to really be considered a classic, and the latter, while not bad, retreads some of the vocal melody of "Slip Away," a song people here hated (but I liked.) But still--who could have predicted that Bowie would eulogize himself by grabbing a bunch of little known NYC modern jazz musicians he bumped into and making some sort of bleak futuristic neo-Heroes electronic jazz-rock noir cityscape with it? (Kudos also for keeping it at 41 minutes!) RIP.
The Rolling Stones, Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out!: I may have to relisten to this in a year, or something. I didn't get into it much, I prefer watching Gimme Shelter, and it's not like I didn't read the expansive reviews explaining why this is such a live classic, especially George Starostin's. Really I just liked "Love In Vain," and that's because it's "Love In Vain." I know for sure that I am NOT a fan of the live "Sympathy For The Devil," and that's not because of its connotations--I just don't like it being turned into this midtempo shuffle thing, and those Mick Taylor solos that every reviewer jerks off over don't set me on fire either. "Midnight Rambler" is one of the best Stones songs, but I'm just seeing how stretching it out a few minutes turns it into a terrifying monster that supposedly obliterates the studio version that I've been listening to every year since Christmas 2001. "Jumpin' Jack Flash" and "Honky Tonk Women" are just...okay...songs to me, for some reason, and I doubt I'll ever be a fan of ANY version of "Live With Me" or "Stray Cat Blues." Uhm, in case I sound like a real philistine or jerk here, you know what I've said about the Stones--I like their pop songs, their ballad songs, their weird songs...and Ya-Ya's is not about that, it's about goodtime Stonesy blooze rock. Which, even though it's their biggest "thing," isn't what I really listen to them for! Or maybe I'm just not into the big rock & roll classics. I'm lukewarm on The Song Remains The Same, I'm on the fence about Live At Leeds, and now here I am not caring about the big Stones album. Gimme a year, I s'pose.
Kate Bush, The Red Shoes: Between 1989 and 1993, Kate Bush lost her mother, did a couple of cruddy Elton John covers, and found herself in her-mid 30s in a new decade. What's an arty girl to do?...DANCE POP. Because that's all she does new here, and believe it or not, it's what makes this album a notch above mediocre, lifting it to the same "I like about half of it" territory as, well, most of her other albums. The quasi-dance-pop songs are "Rubberband Girl," "Constellation Of The Heart" and the best, "Why Should I Love You," a song I didn't realize was a Prince collaboration until I began reading reviews, but I should've, because he kind of reused the chorus in another song I like, "Love," 13 years later on 3121. Most of the rest of this is either weirdness in the vein of the second half of Hounds Of Love, or LLLLUUUSSSHHHHH stuff like on The Sensual World. There are cameos by Eric Clapton (zzz) and Jeff Beck (RIP) and Gary Brooker (uh okay) from Procol Harum (hey, I know them!) and Kate herself tries to play guitar on "Big Stripey Lie" but it doesn't really work. If you want me to name the other songs I cared for here, gimme a minute to relisten to the album because I've already forgotten them. (Decent album.)
Kate Bush, Aerial: Nick E, who I know adores this album more than any other, is likely gonna crucify me for this, but...yyyeaahh, I couldn't get into this much, and I tried real hard, sitting through all 80 minutes about ten times and reading loads of gushing reviews. "King Of The Mountain" is a great album opener, a perfect windy-atmospheric song that matches the album cover and title to a T with its clunking loop and eerie synth swells, and Kate's voice has lost nothing in 12 years. But elsewhere we get...an album about being a middle-aged mom and domestic life, which from Kate means lyrics about Elvis, erotic vaccuum cleaners, her son, and lots and lots and LOTS AND LOTS of spare piano balladry that she already covered well enough with "...And Dream Of Sleep" or "This Woman's Work." I can name a few other tracks I liked, such as "Prologue," "Bertie," "Sunset" or "Joanni," and she brings back a slight bit of rock energy in the overlong last two tracks, but otherwise, I honestly would rank this second weakest after Lionheart, though I guess I still have two albums left by her to hear. I guess I just really miss the Fairlight, and the LLLLUUUSHHNESS, and even the dance pop! Oh well, the stuff I liked still comprises like 35 minutes, so there's that. But if you have yet to hear this, and you want to, bring your patience with you--you'll need it!
The Moody Blues, The Magnificent Moodies: It's a load of mid-1960s British Invasion R&B pop, which you'd be surprised to hear the Moodies, then led by Denny Laine, don't really do worse than the Kinks, Who, or even the Stones--at least not to me, someone who isn't really into the genre much. There is no connection to the band from 1967 onwards here aside from that it shares the drummer, keyboard player and flautist. There's a slight hint of pomp the other bands didn't have, but only slight. "Go Now!," the big hit the band had in 1965, is the best song, all wistful and such, and followed by the sad "Can't Nobody Love You," "Let Me Go" and the pleasant "I've Got A Dream." I listened to the 12-song British LP and four tracks from the American counterpart Go Now--The Moody Blues #1 that replaced four songs on the British LP, and of those, "It's Easy Child" and "From The Bottom Of My Heart" are okay. And yes, sure enough, this has been reissued in several miserably different formats with six jillion bonus tracks, stray songs and alternate versions and novelties, and unless someone wants to put a gun to my head and scream at me to listen to them, I can live without. Still, this isn't bad while it's playing and is miles better than Sur La Mer!
Julian Lennon, Valotte: I listened to this on a lark, and just decided to listen a few more times after that for the hell of it. (For the record, I've never sat down and reviewed a John Lennon solo LP!) Young Julian's voice, which eerily sounds exactly like his father's, is really the only thing he had going for him, and it's a miracle this album doesn't flat-out blow: it's standard vanilla 80s pop, for one thing. For another, the instrumentation and production are generic, with the biggest embarrassments being the crappy use of 80s horns in songs like "OK For You" and "Say You're Wrong," and the 80s synthesizers, when they're used, are pretty chintzy, particularly "Jesse," where a good melody is marred by synths that make the ones on the Talk Talk debut sound like "Spider & I" by comparison. Oh, and GOOD LORD ARE HIS LYRICS BANAL JEJUNE MUNDANE CRAP. ALL OF THEM. He apes "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" on the title track and the rest are generic relationship trivialities, the worst offender being "On The Phone" and "Let Me Be" at the end, mercifully over after two minutes. BUT...I can be nice, too, and "Valotte" and "Too Late For Goodbyes," the two singles (with videos directed by Sam Peckinpah, who died right after completing them) are nice little pop tunes, and hey, bad production and all I did like "Jesse," "Say You're Wrong" and the ballad "Space." What can I say--maybe it's just easy to be nice to generic pop music if it's listenable enough. And Julian pretty much fizzled out after a couple years anyway, right? Only to do interviews about his dad for the rest of his life? No prizes for guessing that he was on the cover of Rolling Stone that year--those guys know EVERYTHING!
Big Black, Racer-X EP: This is the best of the three early Big Black EPs; Lungs had two songs I liked and Bulldozer about two and a half, and this one manages four or five; the only one I didn't like was the James Brown tune "The Big Payback" at the end, which doesn't suit their style at all. The rest were all listenable, if not mind-blowing, "Sleep" and the superspeedy "Ugly American" were the best. Be advised though that the Big Black studio discography is probably about two hours or so long in its entirety, and I'd say everything I liked would make up maybe 65 minutes or so. And though this was decent, there weren't any surprises on it--if you've heard their other stuff, you've heard this.
Pavement, Perfect Sound Forever EP: This was the best of the three early Pavement EPs: the terrible Slay Tracks managed one song I liked, and Demolition Plot J-7 about two, and this one manages about three: "Drive-By Fader," "Heckler Spray" and (I think) "From Now On" are okayish. Be advised though that the rest of the Pavement discography completely smokes these early EPs--if I were a record company executive and someone handed them to me and said these guys don't want to be on an indie label, I wouldn't have signed them in a million years. These songs are just so slight, silly little noisy experiments with only a hint of nice melody. You'd never guess these guys would make five great albums over the course of the next eight years.