theAmend* Metal is subjective. That much I’m aware of. It’s also extremely hard to pull off seriously hard metal, without sounding cheesy. Plus you have the added pressure of trying not to sound like an emo brat. Let’s go to the checklist to see how theAmend did with their latest, A Deafening Silence: Hold the gouda: Check. Ballsy vocals: Check Now that that’s settled, let’s now move onto the album. If I had to compare Brian Thomas’, lead singer for theAmend, vocals to anyone in the outer scene, the closest match would be Jacoby Shaddix [aka Coby Dick], lead singer of Papa Roach. Moreso lovehatetragedy and after era, than on the Infest and previous albums. In fact, the influence of Papa Roach is steadily apparent throughout. Though there does seem to be a dash of A Perfect Circle’s guitars here and there. Even so, the influencers that theAmend cull from are just a sprinkling of what they present with A Deafening Silence. theAmend puts a twist on those forebearers, and make a sound all of their own. A Deafening Silence is a very strong record. It’s not completely on the metalcore side of the fence. You can actually understand the lyrics. That said, it does not sound like some Barry Manilow cover band. The music has some heft. Some weight. Some freakin’ huevos. Sure, there are some moments where we hear tinges of heartbreak. Those moments feel honest, unlike a 13 year old pissing and moaning about the world o’ poo that they traipse through on a daily basis. With Thomas it feels real. Like he lived through it, and is contemplating how bad/good things were once upon a time. Which is nice for us, the listener. Bad for him, the guy who had to go through the murk and mud to bring us those words. The vocal performance shouldn’t outshine the tremendous musicianship by the band behind Thomas. Their abilities are the strong backbone that make theAmend a step above. They take chances. Sure, the songs are shorter tunes. Those small capsules of time are compacted. They are overflowing with forceful, duel guitars, and a beefy bass and drum combo. Back to the beginning. When metal is done right, it’s great. Other times it can be downright scary... and not it a good way. Hearing crap metal, like Murderdolls [though I’ve only heard their debut album] makes my ears bleed... again, not in a good way. theAmend accomplishes where many others have failed. There seems to be a good trend here in Knoxville, as far as metal bands are concerned. They are a diverse lot. Many of them jogging right along side theAmend in their ability to make good, heavy metal music. Hopefully that trend won’t be over saturated, bringing with it wank ass, cheesy poofs of bands. * This is not a typographical error. Everywhere I see theAmend’s name it is spelled that specific way. So all you designers roll your tongues back up in your mouth, and put your red pens back in your shirt pocket. Quartjar I cannot not like Quartjar’s Years of a Monkey, no matter how much I try. The more I listen to it, the more I realize it’s not a great album. For some reason, though, I keep listening to it. Keep digging it. Keep tapping my foot. It’s funny, sarcastic. Hell, it’s downright hilarious in parts. All that said, I just cannot give two thumbs up, and a semi-chubby to this album. My brain’s split in two. Quartjar is, from what I can tell, Randall Brown’s band. Though perusing the liner notes, I am recognizing a plethora of big name Knoxvillians. Just to name a few; Todd Steed [hell, if you don’t know who Todd Steed is then shame on you], Peggy Hambright [Judybats], and Brain Williams [The French Broads]. That’s just to name a few, there are many more well respected players on Years of a Monkey. Two things of note, as far as the cameos go. Uno] What the hell is a “oud?” Laith Keilany plays whatever it is on the tune “Love Theme From Arab Moon.” Dos] I’ve come to he conclusion that Todd Steed is an even bigger musical genius than I originally thought. He plays a bouzouki. Hell, I don’t know what that is, and am not ashamed to admit that I cannot pronounce it properly. Let’s set that aside, and delve into the record. Years of a Monkey delivers a wry look at our metropolis. On “Crosstown Waltz” Quartjar even gives us a breakdown of how all sides of the town factor into what makes Knoxville a whole. Is this for the world weary travelers that visit our fair city? Maybe. Could just be Mr. Brown pointing out some of the problems of KnoxVegas. He also delves into other places far, far away from our burgh. No, we’re not talking about a Star Wars tribute song. On “Downtown Zurich, Saturday Night” Mr. Brown talks about being bored, even though the sights and women are fantastic, while bounding about Switzerland. Another highlight is that the bulk of the instrumentation on Years of a Monkey is really well done. The guitars throughout are strong. The other, oddball instruments add a certain depth. Also the sonic quality of the record is right up there. Let it be said that Years of a Monkey is a well produced album. If anything else can be noted about the record, it’s that it has the best track titles that I can recall. Here is a sampling: “What Becomes a Whore?”, “That’s So Gay Street Blues”, “Staring at Your Woman”, “I Got Drunk Last Night Just on the Thoughts of You”, and “My Dad Is Bigger Than Your Dad.” See what I mean. As quirky as the title is “I Got Drunk Last Night Just on the Thoughts of You” is, it is actually a very good song. The words are somewhat funny, but the song itself appears to be very sad and genuine. Same goes with “My Dad Is Bigger Than Your Dad.” At it’s core it is a song about a stepfather stepping in where a birth father has been lackluster. See, what the hell? Yin and yang. Earnest and erratic at the same time. Damn you Randall for making me enjoy your album. As Montgomery Burns would say, “Well played Mr. Brown. Well played.” Just feel lucky that I didn’t release the hounds upon you. John Carney Once is a musical in the loosest usage of genre pinning. It’s more like a full length, visual version of an album. When the characters sing they don’t just suddenly, unexpectedly, awkwardly burst into song. John Carney, writer/director of the film, crafts a world in which when the characters sing, it makes sense. In fact, it would damn near feel odd if they didn’t sing. Waxing poetic, purging their internal dialogue into the ether just to drag the story along would feel clunky. Carney succeeds grandly by setting scenes in which the film progresses smoothly through the music and lyrics. The backbone to this film is the start of a bond through music, which could possibly turn into love, between The Guy [Glen Hansard] and The Girl [Markéta Irglová]. Their names are never spoken. Which, at first, seemed like an odd choice. As the feature progressed you realize that, as in real life, sometimes names are never passed between casual meetings. Think of the last time you were at a bar, and struck up a conversation with a fellow stoolmate. Did you get his/her name? Family history? Blood type? Probably not. Back to the story. The thought that the guy and the girl may end up together will pique your interest, and make you move to the edge of your seat. Again, like in real life, there are missteps and miscues. Hansard, we learn, has been staying with his father in order to get over a long lost love. Irglová, a Czech immigrant relocated to Ireland [where the movie takes place], has a very young daughter and estranged husband. The husband is still in the Czech Republic, which makes us, the audience, wonder just how far the relationship will go between Hansard and Irglová. I’m not going to give it away, but suffice it to say the ending is a tremendous payoff. To tell the truth, if it would have ended any other way it would have felt false. Not to dismiss American Graffiti or Garden State, but, unlike those films, Once uses music in the forefront to expound upon the deep emotion growing between Hansard and Irglová. Take the first duet between the two. They pop into a music instrument store, which Irglová is a regular. From time to time she goes to play one of the store’s pianos because she cannot afford one. The emotion, the depth of that scene is something that merely a song on a CD cannot replicate. Here we have a pianist, taught by her classically trained father, and a simple street musician performing a song with such gusto and heartfelt soul that goose bumps form all over your body. The music isn’t just an undercurrent to direct you in which emotion is being displayed on screen, the music and lyrics are the emotion. That word truly describes the movie to a T. Emotion. Anyone who’s ever loved someone, or been in that gray area still trying to determine whether or not this person opposite you is Mr./Mrs. Right, will feel the heart and warmth that Once emanates from beginning to end. Oh, just in case you cannot figure out from the film review above, go ahead and do yourself a favor by picking up the soundtrack to the film. Trust me, you’ll be crodgedy until you get your Hansard/Irglová fix. Dr. Paperthin approves of this message. Cherie Priest Review by Shara Saunsaucie I’m not exactly sure how I discovered horror writer Cherie Priest. It was a couple of years ago, I know that. It was via Live Journal, I know that too. I think I happened upon her journal while doing one of those random click searches--you know how those are, when you’re so bored you just keep clicking, and clicking, and clicking to find something interesting? Anyway, I’m pretty sure that’s how I found her. No one had told me about her books, no one recommended her to me. It was a random accident. Now, when you consider the fact that the majority of science fiction, fantasy, and horror writers usually come from the UK, the Northeast, or the Midwest, you begin to understand why I completely wigged out over her location. Chattanooga is practically a stone’s throw away from Knoxville, so in my mind, that makes her a local author, which therefore deserves my interest. I discovered then that Priest’s debut novel, Four and Twenty Blackbirds would be available from Tor that October [2005]. Tor’s a huge name in the science fiction/fantasy field, and therefore totally worth my attention. When her book came out, I couldn’t help but pick it up. And once I picked it up, I couldn’t put it down. It’s now two years later, and Cherie Priest has just completed her Eden Moore trilogy with Not Flesh Nor Feathers, which was released October 2007. The second book of the trilogy, Wings to the Kingdom, came out the year before. The trilogy, at its heart, is paranormal horror. You’ve got ghosts, murder mysteries, ancient graveyard guardians and zombies. All fantastic ingredients for horror, right? Priest doesn’t seek to scare the shit out of you. Instead, her books build a gradual suspense, creating a tension that can creep you out and sometimes disturb you, depending on the kind of reader you are. And don’t let the female lead worry you: there’s a popular trend in urban fantasy, which seems to dictate that if one writes a female heroine in a paranormal or supernatural setting, there must be romance. Never fear. This isn’t paranormal romance, and it barely qualifies as urban fantasy. No, Priest writes horror/dark fantasy, and there’s maybe .5% romance at all, and even that’s nothing to sneeze at. Eden Moore is a solid, dependable heroine who thinks for herself and puts herself on the line to help the people she cares about. Plus, you know, she sees ghosts. The first book, Four and Twenty Blackbirds [2005], focuses on Eden’s childhood and what it meant growing up and seeing ghosts. They actually aren’t THAT scary [not always], but a gun-toting cousin who’s trying to kill you because God’s told him you’re his evil great-grandfather reincarnated is. The book focuses really tight on family--that and its use of dark magic really gives it a Southern Gothic flavor, and there’s more than enough creepy moments throughout the book. The second, Wings to the Kingdom [2006], centers around the Chickamauga battlefield and Old Green Eyes who protects it. When Old Green Eyes disappears and ghosts start popping up with an urgent message, Eden doesn’t want to get involved in solving the mystery, but she soon finds she doesn’t have a choice. The third and final installment, Not Flesh Nor Feathers [2007], brings us back to the city of Chattanooga and sudden and unnatural rise of the Tennessee River. And it’s not just the river that’s rising, but the dead--people involved in a brutual massacre ninety years ago and want revenge no matter what. In a word, zombies. Each volume can easily be read on its own, as each has its own plot. Priest does a pretty good job filling the reader in on the necessary details, but the books are far more satisfying if read in chronological order, simply because the overall arc connecting these tales really gives the climax of the final book its punch and is instrumental in Eden evolving as a character. Always putting herself before others, not matter what the danger, she’s the kind of character you really want to root for. Each book is written with a smooth, witty, first-person narrative, and once you get to know her, it’s hard NOT to like Eden. Setting and atmosphere are also fantastic highlights of each book. Even though I’m only vaguely familiar with the real-life settings, Priest knows how to evoke the city and the mountain and just the overall mentality of life with just the perfect turns of phrase. The setting is vivid, and she knows how to create suspense, how to creep you out. While ghosts are a universal monster, Priest’s extrapolation of folklore and local legend really bring these books to life. And trust me, when you pick up a Cherie Priest book, it’s going to take every ounce of willpower you’ve got to put it back down, and once you finish a book and can put it down, you’re only going to want more. In fact, my only real complaint is the fact that the final book ends with a rather bittersweet note. No spoilers here, but it’s easy to see that there’s lots of potential for more Eden Moore stories, and there’s smaller questions, not important questions, that are left rather unresolved. It’s not a bad thing. Like I said, that means there’s room for more should Priest ever get contracted to write them. And the best way to ensure that is to buy the books and read them, then make your friends buy them, and if you’re friends are stubborn, buy the books for them. If you enjoy prickly, hair-standing-on-the-back-of-your-neck horror with a splash of local color, now’s the time to curl up with one of her books. You won’t be disappointed. If you would like your CD / Film / Book reviewed by us, please shoot an e-mail here. Be forewarned, we are not your mom. We will be honest, and sometimes ruthless. |
