If you liked Shanghai Noon, you’ll like Shanghai Knights. If you didn’t, you won’t. There’s some new wrinkles in this one, but the good parts are the same. The film rides mostly on the good natured chemistry between Jackie Chan and Owen Wilson, who both seem like they’re having great fun all the time. Wilson’s affable delivery carries a lot of the stiffer jokes to levels of hilarity that the script only dreamt of, and Chan gets to do lots of Chan stuff (including a really nice fight sequence/homage to Singing the Rain).

The Super Bowl was kind of dull, except for the Matrix commercial, which was bananas. Downloadable here.

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I’m not sure what I was thinking, but I decided to go all the way out to Anaheim to see Bangs, my current favorite power pop outfit, play on Monday night. These forays into suburbia never really seem to work out for me, but I keep trying them anyway, all in the name of a cheap rock and roll thrill. I’m kind of an idiot that way.

After spending most of the day killing time in a gigantic soul-sucking mall (The Block in Orange, where the only real redeeming feature is full on Vans Skatepark, which I must admit was pretty sweet), I arrived at Chain Reaction in Anaheim. It’s a little all ages club in a strip mall that it shares with a Korean Furniture store. No joke.

It was about 7:00pm, I knew doors opened at 8:00pm, but I knew pretty much nothing else about the show. I had no idea who else is playing or when Bangs actually go on. The bill turned out to be five bands long, with Bangs as the headliner going on at 10:45pm. Which means that we basically could’ve left from Los Angeles whenever and avoided the whole “hanging out in Anaheim” disaster.

Since I’m actually of age, I’m generally not a huge fan of all ages venues. I looked around and I was pretty much the oldest person there. The only people older were the parents chaperoning their kids. I’m 26, so I’m kind of at a tweener age. I’m about the same age as Maggie or Sarah from Bangs, so everyone looked at me like I’m either one of the performers or like I’m actually a narc from 21 Jump Street. Who am I kidding? None of these kids knew what the Jump Street was.

None of the four local bands playing (it was apparently POPPUNK NIGHT) really did it for me, to speak kindly. I’m not going to knock kids trying to get their rock shit together though. Kids gotta do it and kids gotta figure it out.

Bangs hit the stage right on time and setup fairly quickly. Bassist Maggie Vail ditched the glasses and windbreaker I saw her in earlier and traded it in for a Bangs muscle-T that showed off her Ramones ink. The only thing missing from the rock transformation was a phonebooth.

After the short standard intro, Bangs cut into the title track off Call and Response, a fuck-off ode to the catcallers that seem to constantly pop up in guitarist Sarah Utter’s life. The explosive opener aside, not much of the rest of the show went right. Sarah’s guitar started flipping out after the second number, and did it constantly enough to kill the mood. I had some bullshit theory about the amps that was causing the problem that I just made up. I was wrong (turns out it was her guitar jack), and I realized that I’ll never make it as a guitar tech. There goes my Plan B Rock N’ Roll Dream. After nine songs, that included an Undertones cover and an old rare cut, Ready 2 Go, Bangs cut the show short and apologized for the technical difficulties and ended the show prematurely.

On the way home, I felt bad for Sarah, who pretty much had to stand up there and die a thousand deaths of embarrassment as her guitar went all chitty chitty (bangbang, haha) on her. By the time I got home, I felt bad for ME, as I realized I’d spent all day in Anaheim and got a shortened set with a non-functioning guitar. I ended up listening to both Bangs albums and the EP when I got home, just to get my fix for the night before heading to bed.

The next night, Bangs played Los Angeles proper at the Troubadour, opening for The D4. Considering my luck lately, I almost assumed that I was going to get a big sold out sign stuck in my face when I showed up at the venue, but that was apparently not the case. Tickets were easy to get, security wasn’t too grab happy and there was a bar and everything. I didn’t even buy an overpriced beer, but the idea that it was there and available with my bright orange wristband seemed oddly comforting.

Bangs descended on the stage in good spirits and with wonderful, functioning, equipment. Sarah was generally chatty, trying to give their new listener’s a little background on each song. There were only about ten songs played, so they were pretty much all highlights. There’s not a lot of room for fluff as an opener.

New Scars kicked off the show with its rousing chorus and bridge, with the always fun “Black Out! Your heart!” chant. If there’s one thing I can count on with Bangs, there’s always a fun part where I get to sing along. The metal consumer excess anthem I Want More was dedicated to those “women on Melrose with the tupperware breasts,” and the Bangs whipped out their cover of Cheap Trick’s Southern Girls, which dares to be even better than the original. Peter David Connelly’s drum roll on Docudrama gives that song a running start and it’s pretty much a bucking bronco after that. Bangs eventually closed with the Sabbathesque Dirty Knives, which has some of my favorite guitar licks of the year on it and an ending stanza that absolutely goes off the rails.

It wasn’t a perfect show, but quite frankly, I’d opt for character and moxie over machine like perfection any day. I wasn’t there to see a Helmet show. Sarah’s playing combines driving rhythm work with just enough fills to feel like a two guitar band, and Maggie’s basswork fills in all the holes properly, either by doubling up the riff work or creating her own melodies and lead work while Sarah does the heavy lifting. Sarah got her sneer in full effect, and whenever Maggie took her turn on the mike (as on the gorgeous Leave It All Behind), she did her own take on the Susanna Hoffs downward glancing while singing her verses. I always feel bad about talking about Peter David Connelly almost as an afterthought (I couldn’t even find a proper picture of him, since he’s always behind the kit), but his drumming has brought an extra bump in power to the outfit and Bangs can now mix it up and go power or pop or both at the same time. I think the original band self-description was something along the lines of “Go-Gos vs. Black Sabbath,” which sounds just about right.

It’s all hook laden rock at it’s finest, with tasty riffs that make you bob your head up and down and choruses that make you bob your head from side to side. What else do you ever need? The second night washed the bad taste of Anaheim away, and I left the Troubadour sated and hopelessly smitten with rock and roll again. I got home and put their posters on my wall, their stickers on my guitar and their songs on my mixtapes. Excuse me, while I scribble “Bangs” in varying typefaces on my notebook and in the margins of my books. Give me a couple of more days and I might even toss off a fan letter.

Since my words do them no justice, download:

Burnout – Old School Power Ballad from Tiger Beat
Into You – Crush-A-Lot Jam from Sweet Revenge
I Want More – The Aforementioned Consumer Excess Anthem from The Call and Response EP

I’m also sure that message of The Aforementioned Consumer Excess Anthem doesn’t apply to Bangs CDs and merch, so go forth and buy, buy, buy.

Bangs are currently busting ass across America on a whirlwind (26 shows in 29 days) tour.

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After running out of entertainment options, I ended up renting Fever Pitch, a movie based on Nick Hornby’s book of the same name. The film is about Paul Ashworth, played by Colin Firth, an obsessed fan of London based soccer club Arsenal. Ashworth goes to the games, owns the kit, the underwear and the novelty lamp. Every stat is memorized, and his life goes in seasons. He is happiest when Arsenal is winning, he is miserable when they lose, he believes that when he is doing well, Arsenal will do well. He eventually finds himself in a meaningful relationship with a woman who could care less about Arsenal, and the bulk of the movie is about Ashworth negotiating the troubled waters.

Like High Fidelity, Hornby gets to poke around men and their obsessions with the reasonably trivial, and how these tendencies affect their day to day lives. Eventually, both protagonists has to figure out if growing up and and growing old means giving up their passions. The story arcs for both films are virtually identical, but Fever Pitch is enjoyable even if you are familiar with Hornby’s later and more popular work. I say this as a guy obsessed with both music AND sports.

Fair warning… this will probably be a really tough movie to watch if you’re a Red Sox or Cubs fan.

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… so I turned it down.

The colors were actually hurting my eyes, so I just toned everything down a notch.

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Here’s all the random crap I’ve checked out on the internet lately. Some of it’s new, some of it’s old, all of it is worth looking at, as long as you have broadband (some of them are big downloads).

First off: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs interview and live performance on the John Lamacq show. I’m putting the link up here for my own reference more than anything. The BBC Radio site is practically impossible to navigate, and keeps redirecting you like if you were in some kind of infinite error loop. Anyway, the performance is four songs long, including three new ones not on either of the EPs released this year.

If you’re down on yourself or lacking in inspiration, I highly recommend going here. Make sure you’re sound is on (but not too loud). Sean Connery always knew the right thing to say. This is a supadupa old link, but the wisdom is timeless, really.

To burn some brain cells, I had a good time checking out Gridlock which is a simple little game of brick moving. Frustrating but really fun.

Here’s a really fucked up Electric 6 music video. [Warning: 35mb download] Featuring Jack White on vocals and a moose with a luminous crotch, this video is a can’t miss. It’s a bit freaky, and has the side effect of making you yell “DANGER! HIGH VOLTAGE” at all the wrong times (like in the middle of a meeting).

FOX, just trying their hardest to prove me wrong every time I’ve said they can’t get any lower, showed a program last week called Man Vs. Beast. Can World Champion glutton Kobayashi eat more hot dogs than a grizzly bear? Can a team of 50 midgets pull an airplane further than an elephant? Can a sprinter outrun a giraffe? Man Vs. Beast answers these age old questions. What, you’ve never asked these questions? As offensive as the synopsis sounds, the pictures on the site are EVEN WORSE.

Last link’s for Axel: Step Into Liquid is a new surfing movie, by the folks that put together the Endless Summer films. The footage looks beyond insane, and should shut up anyone that claims that Blue Crush had “the best surf shots ever.”

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Last week the Supreme Court said that the Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act was indeed constitutional. The issue at hand was whether on not the act, which extended copyright another 20 years, was considered an overacting reach of Congress or a restriction on free speech. If the act was put down, lots of old copyrights would have expired and a good bunch of material would have flowed into the public domain, including the Steamboat Willie version of Mickey Mouse.

Instead, the copyright holders won and got their extra twenty years, plus a Supreme Court precedent, which means in 20 years there will most likely be ANOTHER copyright extension act, and nothing will ever flow into the public domain again.

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I’m in the grocery store last week, buying some random junk in the Express Lane. The guy bagging my groceries is kind of eyeing me, and he’s kinda weirding me out. This guy’s got mullettesque hair and this frightening moustache that bordered between cop and pornstar. I’d dismiss him as creepy bagboy except the tie and the nametag indicate he’s clearly a manager up in this place.

Whatever. I pay and as I start to take my groceries, he pipes up “Hey, is that a Fossil watch?” “Um, yeah, I guess.” “Cool. I have one too.”

So what’s the scary part? No, it’s not the fact that I have the same taste in timepieces as Herr PornStache. The scary part is that as I was walking away, I realized that if I had any ability to grow facial hair whatsoever:

I WOULD TOTALLY GROW A PORN MOUSTACHE.

I hated myself for a good day and a half after that.

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10 Records I Listened To In 2002 That Actually Came Out in 2002:

Atmosphere – The Quails
This tiny punk trio from San Francisco brought the folk, with almost unbearably (I said almost!) earnest protest lyrics tied with fun, dancey (not a word) rhythms and melodies. It sounds kind of like Gang of Four, with the propulsive basslines and the angular guitar work. The album isn’t really a masterpiece, but it’s still a wonderful collection of songs about people who still care about the world we live in, enough to write songs about riding bikes and buses and getting pissed off enough to overthrow governments. I’ve always been a sucker for revolutions I can bob my head to.

Call and Response – Bangs
For this year’s girlpoppunk fix, I had to go with this six song EP, which is just about the catchiest, rocking thing I heard all year. The music gets crunchy and metal (check out the Paranoid-esque lick on Dirty Knives) but have choruses that’ll stick in your head for days. If you have a thing for Sahara Hotnights or the Donnas or anything like that, listen to Bangs instead.

Don’t Give Up on Me – Solomon Burke
The King, Solomon Burke, is the Greatest Living Soul Singer. So great, in fact, that he sings from a real live THRONE in concert. So great, that his songs for this album were written by Elvis Costello, Brian Wilson, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan and Van Morrison. He’s got a bunch of rich old white guys writing music for him! How great is that?

Let’s Get Ready to Crumble – The Russian Futurists
Some lonely dude in Canada sat in his dorm room with a bunch of casio keyboards and concocted this minor masterpiece. Hugely symphonic, it sounds like a cross of Brian Wilson and … Depeche Mode. Not nearly as annoying as I make it seem.

Makeup the Breakdown – Hot Hot Heat
If you thought that last combo sounded unappealing, you’ll probably hate this one: Hot Hot Heat sounds like The Attractions fronted by Robert Smith of the Cure. If you can hang with the yelps and whines of the lead singer, you’ll find a supremely catchy set of songs filled with dramatic tension and choruses that force you to sing along for release. Speaking of the Cure, this album kind of reminds me of songs like Close To Me, if they turned the happiness to 11. Wow, that was a heinously bad metaphor.

One Beat – Sleater-Kinney
I won’t belabor the point, but this album was so good I didn’t ever get sick of it, and the band is so good live that I’d consider following them around on tour. Oh wait, I already do that last part, sorta. Frack.

Songs for The Deaf – Queens of the Stone Age
The heaviest of the heavy. You would think that a concept album from a band with a rotating lineup would be pretentious and boring, but Queens were about as simple as it got. Tune the guitars low, riff hard and play it loud. The only complaint I have about the album are the between song skits, which have never aged well on any album (see the Miseducation of Lauryn Hill). Oh, and also I think Dave Grohl’s drums shouldn’t have been as compressed. I didn’t really like that part. Otherwise, it’s probably the most metal thing I’ve liked since Soundgarden broke up.

Veni Vidi Vicious – The Hives
Does this count as a 2002 release? I don’t even know. The Hives were probably overhyped, but VVV is still outstanding. Yeah, they’re a bit schticky, but they’ve got a guy named DR. MATT DESTRUCTION! That’s good schtick. They tended to get lumped in with the Vines a lot, but the difference in talent level there is the size of Everest.

When I Was Cruel/Cruel Smile – Elvis Costello
A great comeback rhythm record for Elvis, but honestly, it probably doesn’t even land in the Top 10 Elvis Costello records of all time. Still, Elvis does the snarky bitter stuff better than anyone, and he seems able to craft brilliant songs out of material that’s not necessarily genuinely inspired. That’s a whole different kind of genius.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs EP/Machine EP/Peel Sessions/Lamacq Sessions – The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
I tried to ignore the buzz early on, especially when it was based on a 5 song EP, which was good, but not as mind blowingly spectacular as I was led to believe. However, once I got to hear the Machine EP and the two spectacular live sets they did on British radio, I was convinced. Once you combine all the material, you see an impressive range of songs and the hype becomes justifiable. Karen O gets a lot of attention for her homemade clothes and her odd habit of pouring beer on herself, but she’s a legit rock vocalist. Rock on, my Asian sister.

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George Clooney gets behind the camera for the first time and tosses out a startingly assured debut. The dangerous mind in question is that of Chuck Barris, host of the Gong Show. In his memoirs, he claimed that while he was working in television, he was also a paid assassin for the CIA. It’s a concept so nutty, it’d be pretty hard to make something uninteresting or boring out of it. Can’t miss.

In terms of execution, the movie hits most of its marks. Clooney’s direction is solid all around in terms of shotmaking and narrative, and includes a few inspired camera setups. I found the cinematography to fluctuate from being really good to slightly distracting, but not enough to really bother me. Sam Rockwell turns in a really fun performance as Chuck Barris, and all the supporting work is quite fine as well (Drew Barrymore, Julia Roberts, Rutger Hauer, George Clooney). It’s not perfect though. It’s a bit scattershot at times, particularly towards the end, but it’s almost always engaging.

Makes me really want to read the original autobiography and see just how loose Barris’ screws really are.

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Yeah, this one was pretty good. There’s nothing too challenging here, but it’s all well done and entertaining in that light no-brain activity afternoon sort of way. I particularly liked the opening credits sequence, which evoked a lot of the Hitchcock/Saul Bass openings, mixed in with something like The Saint.

In general, I’m happy Spielberg is willing to throw us something like this every now and then, because his serious stuff is really starting to bore me. Like almost everyone of his recent films, Catch Me If You Can also has an oddly attached epilogue. Unlike A.I. or Minority Report, this one is fairly justifiable. Plus, it’s a true story!

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