Aimee Mann's new album, out June 3, is called @#%&*! Smilers, which is not a group Mann herself ever seems to have belonged to, except maybe when she posed for the uncharacteristically grinning photo that adorns her homepage. @#%&*! Smilers is full of portraits of (in Mann's own description) people with "dark, eccentric personalities." Judging by her new single, "Freeway," which she introduced on a recent episode of the Ovation channel's Artists Den (embedded below), the new set offers more of the exquisitely crafted wistful, wry melancholy that Mann devotees and music critics love (and that the pop charts ignore). Mann's website has all the details on the album release (on her own SuperEgo label), and her summer tour, while there are more snippets of her music at her MySpace page. Feel free, Mann fans, to use the comments section to proclaim your Mann crush and evaluate her new tunes.
A decade ago, I wrote in a review of Beck's Mutations that it might win the prize for the best album of 1968 if the Grammys ever decided to give that award out again. Perhaps I should have saved that remark for Danger Mouse's Grey Album, his reimagining of The Beatles, (arguably) the actual best album of 1968. So maybe it was inevitable that Beck and Danger Mouse would bond over their shared love of psychedelia and create something like "Chemtrails," the moody, Mutations-esque ballad currently streaming at Beck's website (look for the boombox widget in the upper right hand corner). With Beck's falsetto floating dreamily over a foundation of grim, reverberating piano chords, the song sounds terrific to me (or, at least, the two-and-a-half minutes of it playing on endless loop at Beck.com sounds terrific); maybe Beck's forthcoming disc (still untitled, still no release date, though he'll be touring this summer to promote it) will be the best 1968 album yet from either of these guys.
Unless you've been following the ongoing developments of this crazy little film called The Incredible Hulk — a reboot of Marvel's un-jolly green giant, starring Edward Norton — you might come upon this spot and not know what you're going to get.
Much like the recent trailer for Guillermo del Toro's Hellboy sequel, it doesn't tip its superheroic hand until very late. You could reasonably think that this is simply a mad-science, Fugitive-style thriller about a man with a secret on the run from the Law. That is, until Tim Roth gets injected with something unky and turns into a giant CG abomination, and Norton's Bruce Banner gets tossed out of a chopper (a scene cribbed straight from the comics) and hits the ground as the Hulk. Then it's abundantly clear what kind of movie we're looking at: One in which good actors are, inevitably, relegated to the sidelines as totally fake-looking CG creatures duke it out, destroying New York — again — in the process.
Will I see it? Probably. I am a geek, therefore I must go. But I'm not looking forward to it nearly as much as I am Iron Man. How about you?
Is that an Iron Man in your pocket, or are you just really happy to see the full trailer?
This is one of the few movies wherein the more I see of it, the more I want to see it. And the comics hordes should be pleased, as Tony Stark is the smug, self-righteous boozer we've all come to know and love. (Or loathe, depending on how you feel about his role in Marvel's big Civil War event.) And Robert Downey Jr. is working it.
What more could you want from a trailer for a big summer action flick? A sense of humor, big superheroic action, and a little Black Sabbath... I'm sold. What about you?
I'm sure you all know that the teaser for J.J. Abrams' new Star Trek movie unspooled before Cloverfield and is now available online right ovah heah. And while it is short, it's completely effective in stoking the kind of geek awe one needs in order to resuscitate this flagging franchise. After all, love him or hate him, the stoking is one of the things Abrams is best at. (Witness this other site, which offers "security cam" footage of those same workers building the Enterprise.)
But aside from the awesomeness of watching the construction of the ol' NCC-1701, this teaser did raise one big geek question for me: Why would anyone build a starship on Earth itself? Because that's what those welders are doing. I get that it's a cooler image, seeing the grimy faces of the workers as the sparks reflect off their safety goggles — as opposed to dudes floating around in space suits. But it just doesn't make any sense. If a vessel is never going to operate inside the gravity well of a planetary body, then why subject it to the stresses of that same gravity well during construction? And isn't it easier to maneuver the raw materials in a weightless atmosphere? One dude, all by himself, could slide a warp nacelle into position if he was in zero-g orbit. You'd need massive, massive machinery to do the same thing on Earth. Besides, according to Star Trek lore, Starfleet built the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards — in orbit around Mars — expressly for ship construction. Because Starfleet ain't stupid.
Writer-producer Roberto Orci attempts to explain away some of these issues, but I'm not even remotely convinced. What about you? Do you buy it? Or do you not particularly care?
Okay, I'm closing the geek hailing frequencies now. Carry on.
Just a friendly reminder that AMC's new series Breaking Bad, created by X-Files veteran Vince Gilligan and starring Malcolm in the Middle's Bryan Cranston, is debuting this Sunday night at 10 p.m. (Check out Ken Tucker's review here.) As a big Malcolm fan, I thought Cranston was pretty much perfect as high-strung Hal, and a big factor in wry Jane Kazmareck's Emmy-nominated success as his wife Lois. You may recall that he snuck into Little Miss Sunshine in a small but pivotal role as the source of Greg Kinnear's angst, Stan Grossman. Cranston's certainly busting out of the comedy mold with Bad, a gritty tale of a terminally ill chemistry teacher-turned-meth dealer-on-the-run, and I'm all hopped up to watch him rock the role. (I mean, he's already played the darkest character there is — Lucifer himself — in 2006's Fallenon ABC Family.) Maybe it's the tighty-whiteys Cranston sports so un-self-consciously in Bad, or maybe it's his auburn moustache (which reminds me, might Seth Green be angling to play his little brother?), but from the minute I saw Cranston in ads for Bad, I've been pulling for the show to match the success of AMC's other original show,Mad Men (new Golden Globe winner for best drama series). Think he can pull it off? Watch and report back!
There's one moment in this trailer that got me laughing so hard at my desk that people actually poked their heads in to make sure I hadn't snapped and was about to go on a crazed stapler rampage. I think you'll know it when you see it.
That look on Amy Poehler's face, just sitting there... man-oh-Manischewitz. Judging by this trailer, Baby Mama looks like a brave new frontier for chick flicks. It's not a romantic comedy. It's not a "three girls get together and bond over shared bad experiences with dudes" movie. It's not defined by the female reaction to the male presence, or lack of presence. Which is so friggin' refreshing I can't tell you.
Not that I thought the whole trailer was a slam dunk — at this point, there's no such thing as an au courant DMX joke — but it's promising. And it's Tina Fey, who's totally gonna come live with me if my wife and Tina's husband say it's cool.
If you do a little Evel Kneivel over the jump (get it?), there's some more Fey-related baby shenanigans for you.
Do you like shaggy dudes from indie bands who now moonlight as solo artists singing songs that seem peppy on the outside, but might have, like, deeply deep meanings underneath? Then late January/early February will be a pleasant time for you, my PopWatching friends, thanks to two records I'm certain will enhance your lives. Neither has the relative commercial oomph of an Arcade Fire or Shins (advances I was salivating over around this time in 2007), but given the eventual overkill I felt courtesy of both those records, maybe that's a good thing.
On January 29th, fans of Adam Brody poster children Death Cab for Cutie get Field Manual, the anticipated first solo record from guitarist Chris Walla (pictured, left) who may in fact be better known at this point for his work as a producer for acts like The Decemberists (hey! I like them!), and who battled U.S. Homeland Security (jerks stole his hard drive) to bring this collection of drifty boy ditties to you and yours.
And on February 5th, fans of on-hiatus Broken Social Scene guitarist Jason Collett (right) will be treated to more of his Canadian old-school folk-rock on Here's to Being Here, the followup to 2006's Idols of Exile. He gets less help from his BSS brethren this time, instead recording with touring band Paso Mino, which may be a good thing in terms of clarity of focus; I wish I lived in a dorm right now so I could listen to this instead of all that Grateful Dead I bizarrely enjoyed at the time.
Check out Walla's endearing "Sing Again" (link via Barsuk) and the warm Dylan-meets-Lou-Reed vibe of Collett's"Out of Time" (link via Stereogum) and then report back in the comments: Are these boys worthy of being advanced?
Take a heaping cup of I Am Legend, add a soupçon of Road Warrior, and then deep-fry that mutha in Escape From New York and you'll have the awesomeness that is Neil Marshall's Doomsday.
This is like the geek equivalent of stuffed french toast: goodness, injected inside of goodness, lathered in goodness. Malcolm McDowell as the Duke of London and Rhona Mitra as Snake Plissken? C'mon! Sure it looks derivative, but it's derivative of stuff that I love: car chases, genetic mutants, beautiful women kicking ass.
So, folks, in celebration of Thriller's 25th anniversary, Michael Jackson, Will.I.Am, and Akon have remixed/remade "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'," which, aside from being a legitimately slammin' song, gave the world the "Mama say, mama sa, mama mu sa" refrain.
To me, this remix is kind of unnecessary, given the fact that you can still get any house party jumping by putting the original on. So, what do you think?
Once upon a time, I'd have said that multiple Oscar-winning actress Jodie Foster could do anything and sell it to the camera. But after seeing this...
...I think I've gotta revise that statement. There is one thing she can't do: hapless. I'm all for actors realizing that their body of work isn't appropriate for their own kids, and so they make a family film as a result. I'm convinced that's why most of the UK's finest are lining up to be in Harry Potter flicks. But this warmed-over take on Romancing the Stone—timid genre novelist must shed her cloistered life and plunge into the very world she writes about—just feels so forced, so lacking in spirit, that I can't imagine any kid opting for this over, say, braces. And Jodie looks so out of her element it's a little painful to watch. Every character she's ever played has had a sense of command; and despite her mistakes, she's always been the captain of her own fate. But here, she just looks lost at sea...sometimes literally. (And poor Gerard Butler is well on his way to squandering all that goodwill he earned in 300. This and P.S: I Love You are no way to cultivate the crowd that made you a star.)
Granted, I could be wrong—I thought Alvin and the Chipmunks looked like a steaming pile of bad and it made, like, a gazillion dollars and counting—but Nim's could well be the answer to "What if they threw a family film and nobody came?"
Digital wooly mammoths + impossibly perfect teeth for a pre-dentistry society + a whole lot of Apocalypto = 10,000 BC.
See, it's not that it looks bad, it just looks kind of pointless, especially in a post-Apocalypto world. (If you'll remember, that surprisingly good Mel Gibson film also had a pre-cultural dude who has to save what's left of his tribe from people who hang out in giant temples and think they're akin to gods.) And, while I'm usually okay with the cinematic use of the British accent as a stand-in for every other nationality—including aliens—this is a bit of a stretch, considering that these people barely had language, let alone the upper-crust refinery of our sires across the pond. This oughta sound like Quest for Fire, not RSC tryouts.
The ultimate question, though, is Will I Go See It. The jury's out. Depends if something good is on the Hitler—I mean, History Channel.
Looks like I'm not going to the Sundance Film Festival this year. (I know, I can hear all the tiny violins playing.) And I'm bummed. Not because I'm going to miss the raucous parties, thin air, and swag by the metric ton. It's because I'm not going to get to see the greatest idea in the history of independent cinema.
Hamlet 2.
I don't know anything about this world premiere besides what the press release says: "In this rambunctious comedy, a high school drama teacher injects love and passion for theatre into his students by creating a musical sequel to Shakespeare's Hamlet." And the to-die-for cast includes Steve Coogan, Catherine Keener, Elizabeth Shue, Amy Poehler and David Arquette.
Of course, it could suck. This is Sundance, after all. But the only thing that could make me more curious would be if it was called Hamlet 2: Dane Harder. Or Hamlet 2: Electric Boogaloo. (But I'd see anything that ended in "Electric Boogaloo.")
Because, apparently, I need to lighten up when it comes to reviewing trailers—though I will maintain that my take on The Dark Knight was not a negative one—here's the latest gem from Pixar:
What's to say? There's never been a bad Pixar flick, and it doesn't look like this one—coming next summer—is gonna break that streak. (Okay, if I have to quibble with something, it's that this cute little 'bot looks a little too much like Number Five from Short Circuit—but he's so damned cute I'm gonna pretend that I didn't notice.) But, man, Pixar succeeds where almost every other CG toon house fails: in creating characters with character.
He's homeless and drunk, see. But he's got powers, get it? And his life is still screwed up. That's deep.
Here, finally, is the film that will test Will Smith's true box office power: Can he, through sheer force of STAR, make this lame-ass, Blankman-grade superhero satire a hit? Not since Wild Wild West has Smith shown up in a film that carried with it the overwhelming stench of misfire.
And I haven't seen a tossing-of-marine-wildlife gag that good since My Super Ex-Girlfriend. And we all know how that turned out.
And, you know what? I feel a little let down. The problem is, there's no real wiggle room when it comes to interpreting this character. Everyone who's ever played him — from Cesar Romero back in the '60s, to Jack Nicholson (who probably delivered the definitive performance) to Mark Hamill on the Batman animated series — has had to blend mania and hysteria, and top it with a plummy renegade cackle.
Which is exactly what Ledger is doing. Sure, he looks different — that makeup does go a long way towards making him look genuinely scary, as opposed to harlequin silly — and the film seems to be treating him differently, with more heft, than in the past. But that's the job: play this dude like a force of pathological nature.
My favorite shot of the whole thing? It comes early on, with Batman standing atop a skyscraper at dusk, surveying his city. He just looks so...small. The comics offer that image all the time, and he always appears larger than life, as if his wingspan was wide enough to envelop all of Gotham. But here, you really get the Herculean nature of the task Bruce Wayne has set before him. He's just one man. And it's a big city.
And, all of that said, I still can't wait for July.
Leave it to the Lost boys to craft a trailer for the fourth season (now set to debut Jan. 31) that's as cryptic as the show itself.
While I've got my own thoughts — is that the skull of a cyclopean vampire? — I figured I'd go straight to the source for all Lost commentary, Doc Jensen, who peeked up from a dusty tome, shifted his calabash pipe, fixed his monocle and, in his trademark Scottish burr, gave me this:
"The most intriguing images in this trailer to me are the stack of stones on the beach (Charlie's grave?), these fleeting images of military-looking dudes storming the island (remember what Desmond told us about what would happen after Charlie's death, per his flashes of the future: that a chopper would land on the island and take Claire and baby Aaron to safety — Charlie's whole motivation for sacrificing his life), and the glimpse of an ominous new character, who looks to be Jeremy Davies. Clearly, the trailer is setting up a major concern of the season: Can the castaways trust the folks on the freighter? Let us also wonder this: If Ben is correct — that the freighter people are wicked — are we being set up for a classic reversal: the bad guy (in this case, Ben) becoming a good guy? But the trailer doesn't address what will obviously be another major concern of season four: the future. What happened to Jack, Kate, and... whoever else made it off the Island? That's what I want to know. Can't wait for the show to tell me."
There are times when I think that the cultural divide that separates Japan's pop sensibility and America's is one that will never be bridged. That two great nations, once united by a common love for Godzilla and Jennifer Love Hewitt, can never again see eye to eye.
Then I see things like this — which, viewer beware, is ridiculously bloody — and realize that their brand of awesome-crazy is almost identical to ours:
To paraphrase Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, revenge is a dish best served with a Gatling gun for an arm and a "drill bra."
What do you get if you put Brendan Fraser, Helen Mirren, and Gollum in the same movie? No, that's not a trick question, it's the trailer for Inkheart, a fantasy flick that's apparently about a girl and her dad who can make literary characters spring to life.
Sounds like an interesting idea — and Cornelia Funke's book series is well-read and well-loved — but it suffers from just feeling like another unfortunate attempt to grab at Lord of the Rings treasure. What's more, it just doesn't look all that special. Andy Serkis doesn't summon the right brand of malice to be a truly substantial villain, and even though Inkheart's got Paul Bettany and Helen Mirren to its credit, Brendan Fraser might just cancel them out.
Honest to Murgatroid, I'm not sure what to make of this:
On the one hand, the Wachowskis seem to have rebottled that Matrix lightning. Much like The Matrix looked like a comic-book come to life, Speed Racer really looks like the live-action version of a Japanese cartoon. The question remains, though: Is that a good thing? Not sure, but I can tell you this much--any movie with a kid and a monkey pointing at each other from the trunk of a car doesn't bode well.
(Also, something about this reminds me of an Elvis movie. Especially that exchange where John Goodman, as Speed's dad, says "You think you can drive a car and change the world?" and Emile Hirsch's Speed fires back with "it's the only thing I know how to do, and I gotta do something." Just replace "drive a car" with "play a guitar," add some girls with beehives, and this might as well be Speedway.)
What say you, PopWatchers? Is this a hit of candy-colored genius or the makings of a spectacular car-wreck?
Wanna watch a six-minute teaser of that Batman sequel all the kids are talking about, The Dark Knight? Short of breaking into director Christopher Nolan's office—or having a wish-granting genie at your disposal (and, let's be honest, are you gonna waste a wish on this, when there's narwhals that poop platinum out there for the asking?)—there's only one way for that to happen.
Get thee to an IMAX theater to see I Am Legend, which opens December 14. And, if you're good, you'll see Heath Ledger's Joker and Christian Bale's Batman duke it out, eventually become friends, and form a comic-book book club, the first title of which will be Will Eisner's adaptation of Moby-Dick...because the Joker just really likes saying that title.*
* PopWatch makes no guarantees as to the content of those six minutes.
When you hear that title, the moniker given to Paul Thomas Anderson's latest, what images spring to mind? Gothic vampires, sure. A revenge film? Serial killer thriller, perhaps? Torture porn?
Judging by the trailer posted here, you'll get none of the above. Based on Upton Sinclair's Oil!, its about a greedy Texas oil prospector (Daniel Day Lewis). Now, he might (or might not) kill folks, but that's sort of beside the point. (As is whether or not the film is any good. Which it very well might be, given Anderson's track record.) The question is: Would you feel swindled if you showed up to see a movie called There Will Be Blood and got a period piece about crude drilling? Is this a case of smart marketing, or a shifty bait-and-switch?
On Dec. 11, almost 15 years after they introduced themselves with a little hip-hop record called Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers),Staten Island's favorite kung-fu-obsessed rap crew is set to drop its fifth studio record (8 Diagrams)–and apparently, Shaolin is burning.
First there was the issue of Ghostface's record coming out the same day as the new Wu joint, prompting group beatsmith the RZA (pictured) to insist they push 8 Diagrams back a week. Then Ghost and Raekwon started beefing publicly about RZA owing them money. And now, Rae and Ghost are saying the new album was rushed and that it lacks the gritty, minimalist beats that made them famous in the first place. (The RZA, for his part, says everything is just fine.)
So, is 8 Diagrams really garbage or has Ghostface's recent success and acclaim simply gone to his head? Well Popwatchers, I've heard the record, and as much as it pains me to say, the Wu definitely seem a little off their game on this one. Assuming I've heard the final track order, it starts off with a couple of vintage Wu Bangers, and some of the rhymes (especially those from U-God) are pretty tight. But things trail off quickly and get marred by vapid guest appearances (Red Hot Chili Peppers' guitarist John Frusciante playing on a weak track sampling the Beatles "While My Guitar Gently Weeps"; a pointless vocal sample from George Clinton) and a failure to tie together RZA's cold, urban beats into fleshed-out compositions. There are flashes of greatness, but 8 Diagrams is too inconsistent and sounds like a group of guys that would rather be doing something else. Given how many successful solo careers the collective has already launched, and the fact that Wu Tang co-founder Old Dirty Bastard is now deceased, I can't help but wonder if this will be their last group effort. But maybe that's just me. What do you think, Popwatchers? Is the Wu finally through, or does the Tang still rock this thang?
Some of the best genre fiction comes out of a desire to look at well-worn staples from a new perspective. Marvels (from Marvel Comics) looked at the birth of some of their greatest heroes through the ground-level eyes of a photographer. The Sixth Sense tells a very simple ghost story, with the added wrinkle of one of the protagonists being a ghost himself (and don't give me that spoiler alert nonsense...if you haven't seen it by now, you were never going to see it).
And at first blush, Cloverfield seems to take the idea of a giant monster attacking Manhattan and look at it through the viewfinder of a video camera held by survivors. Right from the creepy opening text (it talks about the incident site "formerly known as 'Central Park'"), this looks like snatches of footage pieced together after the big scaly Armageddon.
And less is thrillingly more in this spot. If nothing else, Cloverfield (and Lost and Alias) producer J.J. Abrams knows how to whet an appetite. Come January, we'll see if he knows how to satisfy it as well. What think you, PopWatchers?
Is it just me — and I'm more than willing to concede this fact — or is Eric Bana totally not convincing as the King of England? Furry but slight, that's the vibe I get. (Okay, it's probably just me, still burned from The Hulk.)
You know, this doesn't look bad — all lush and period-y — but there's a lack of oomph. This is another case of a trailer that gives me a little too much plot (don't need to know, at this point, about male heirs and executions) and not enough tone. Why not sell me on the rivalry of the Boleyn sisters — the love torn asunder by power? You know what I want? Dangerous Liaisons. But, hey, I'll settle for Scarlett Johansson writhing in passion.
The Simpsons Movie and Beowulf and even Ratatouille, good as they are, can all pack up and go home, because Persepolis is totally gonna win the Oscar for Best Animated Feature Film.
If the trailer's any indication, this film will be as heartbreaking, illuminating, and hysterical beautiful as the autobiographical graphic novel (by Marjane Satrapi) on which it was based. Beyond that, it's always encouraging to see animated films that reach for something that Shrek the Third can't hope to grasp: art.
Tell me...if you were 12 years old, and totally dug cartoons and lobbied your parents for months to go see the Transformers movie even though it was PG-13 and had strong language and sweaty ladyparts and you studied for weeks to get that B- on your history test but it qualifies because they asked for a B and the minus doesn't render the B a not-B...
I'm sorry. Memory lane.
If you were 12 years old, would you watch this, the new Transformers: Animated series, coming (allegedly) to the Cartoon Network in early 2008:
Every now and again, you can see the future on the horizon. You can make out, if just barely, the shape of things to come. And I tell you, things like this —
Remember vaudeville? Yeah, me neither. You know why? Because it's a form of comedy that has become extinct. There actually used to be TV shows featuring a ventriloquist and his dummy. Not any more.
Humor evolves. What we found hilarious 25 years ago induces yawns today.
So can someone explain this:
It's a dude who can do voices. Near as I can tell, that's it. Passable impersonations of people we've heard done for years: Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Sean Connery, George Bush. And, lo, Frank Caliendo gets himself a TV show (debuting Nov. 20 on TBS).
Which I will never watch. Because I don't live in the main ballroom of the Sands Hotel and Casino circa 1967.
Man, I really want season 7 of 24 to be good, especially after the disappointment that was Day 6, but this trailer doesn't give me a lot of hope. (Warning: Trailer is full of spoilers.) I mean, it's enough of a stretch that Tony Almeida is coming back from the dead, but to make him a rogue agent on top of that? Also, it's nice to see daylight and a change of scenery (CTU is apparently history, and Jack is in Washington, testifying before professional curmudgeon and former That '70s Show dad Kurtwood Smith), but the terror plot — a computer hack attack — is snoozeville. Tell me, Bauer-philes, am I missing something? Is there something in this clip that makes you eagerly anticipate the Jan. 13 season 7 premiere?
Sam Jackson said it best back in Pulp Fiction: ''Well, the way they make shows is, they make one show. That show's called a pilot. Then they show that show to the people who make shows, and on the strength of that one show they decide if they're going to make more shows. Some pilots get picked and become television programs. Some don't, become nothing.''
The pilot production process is a fascinating one, and it's one that, 99 percent of the time, we never get to peek inside of. Until now.
Screenwriter John Rogers (Transformers) is blogging his experience as a writer-producer on the pilot for Leverage, a heisty, espionagey show for TNT. Dean Devlin (Stargate, Independence Day) is directing and Timothy Hutton is starring. Rogers talks about location scouting, the vagaries of casting, the toil (and cost) of shooting, and Chicago's defiance of heart-healthy foods (''At the Original Pancake House today, my western omelette was the size of a hubcap'').
Start here, and work your way up. Once you're done Leveraging, peruse the archives. Rogers, an ex-stand-up comedian, is one smart-funny sumbeyotch: ''Nothing like having Tim Hutton read my words to help me realize I should have written a much better script.'' And check out some embedded footage from the shoot, after the jump!
Unbeknownst to my editors here at EW/PopWatch, I am going to start a new semi-regular blog posting series thing called "Advance Advancement," so that I can write about small, easily overlooked albums that haven't come out yet, but which you should buy when they do. Today's inaugural entry? The Forms!
I mentioned this Brooklyn-based group last week while discussing that Stereogum tribute to R.E.M.'s Automatic for the People, because their cover of "Ignoreland" was the most eminently listenable track on the compilation. But nothing about its crunchy garage stomp prepared me for the ambient blanket of their self-titled sophomore album, out October 23: Opening with a low piano rumble, first song "Knowledge in Hand" (available on the band's MySpace page, here) is all lush undergrowth, alternating between barking lyrics and smooth aaahs, a yummy format that continues for the next eleven tracks. I'd file the Forms squarely adjacent to Pinback and Mark Kozelek and the National, for those of you who like to know where new things sit in the context of old ones. (They'll even be opening for the latter in Williamsburg on Thursday; sold out, but you should totally sneak in.)
Best of all, the Forms encompass all that I hope these Advance Advancement honorees will come to represent: Music that wakes me from my embattled-music-writer stupor, grabs me by the cochleas by ignoring current trends in favor of genuine sonic individuality. And sure enough, after listening my way through yesterday's mail (which included a good-sized stack of crap, plus the new Puddle of Mudd), this was the only CD I wanted to come back to. So yay, the Forms. October 23. Check out their MySpace or watch the live performance video after the jump and report back on what you think in the comments. Also feel free to nominate your own favorite, imminent albums for inclusion in future AAs. I am nothing if not desperate for some new good music in my life. But aren't we all?
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A decade ago, I wrote in a review of Beck's Mutations that it might win the prize for the best album of 1968 if the Grammys ever decided to give that award out again. Perhaps I should have saved that remark for Danger Mouse's Grey Album, his reimagining of The Beatles, (arguably) the actual best album of 1968. So maybe it was inevitable that Beck and Danger Mouse would bond over their shared love of psychedelia and create something like "Chemtrails," the moody, Mutations-esque ballad currently streaming at Beck's 
I'm sure you all know that the teaser for J.J. Abrams' new Star Trek movie unspooled before Cloverfield and is now available online 
Just a friendly reminder that AMC's new series 
Do you like shaggy dudes from indie bands who now moonlight as solo artists singing songs that seem peppy on the outside, but might have, like, deeply deep meanings underneath? Then late January/early February will be a pleasant time for you, my PopWatching friends, thanks to two records I'm certain will enhance your lives. Neither has the relative commercial oomph of an 
Looks like I'm not going to the Sundance Film Festival this year. (I know, I can hear all the tiny violins playing.) And I'm bummed. Not because I'm going to miss the raucous parties, thin air, and swag by the metric ton. It's because I'm not going to get to see the greatest idea in the history of independent cinema.
When you hear that title, the moniker given to Paul Thomas Anderson's latest, what images spring to mind? Gothic vampires, sure. A revenge film? Serial killer thriller, perhaps? Torture porn?
On Dec. 11, almost 15 years after they introduced themselves with a little hip-hop record called Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), Staten Island's favorite kung-fu-obsessed rap crew is set to drop its fifth studio record (8 Diagrams)
Need I say more?
Sam Jackson said it best back in Pulp Fiction: ''Well, the way they make shows is, they make one show. That show's called a pilot. Then they show that show to the people who make shows, and on the strength of that one show they decide if they're going to make more shows. Some pilots get picked and become television programs. Some don't, become nothing.''
Unbeknownst to my editors here at EW/PopWatch, I am going to start a new semi-regular blog posting series thing called "Advance Advancement," so that I can write about small, easily overlooked albums that haven't come out yet, but which you should buy when they do. Today's inaugural entry? 
