Harris' Reviews

Music DVD Review: Jethro Tull-Jack in the Green: Live in Germany

2008-05-15T22:07:00.000-07:00

Watch the Bach-inspired flutist of rock 'n' roll's beard turn gray. Jethro Tull's latest DVD, Jack in the Green: Live in Germany, is a varied collection of good, and good enough performances spanning 22 years. Laying it down on the mandolin, harmonica, or Tull's trademark flute is frontman Ian Anderson as he leads the English rock band of 40 years to success across Germany.

Anderson has personally approved every clip in this DVD, which features performances ranging in style from rock to blues and folk. A Tull concert is a simple one, absent of smoke, lightshows, and the like. The showmanship is less than spectacular, yet quite more than lackluster. Since 1970, Tull has enjoyed "a wonderful relationship with Germany and our German fans," according to Anderson. That country, of course, is where each show in the DVD took place.

Nine of the DVD's 18 songs are from Rockpop in Concert, held in 1982. Groomed in the manner of a hobo, Anderson performed rather enthusiastically as the band was on top of their game. I found it lame when Anderson played air guitar on his flute alongside guitarist Martin Barre. On the other hand, performing as a conductor with his back to the audience was a sharp if not brilliant touch.

Mania swept the vast audience when the opening notes of "Aqualung" were struck and Tull had them by the balls with "Locomotive Breath," which directly followed. These songs, arguably the best in Tull's repertoire, were dazzlingly played and form the climax of this concert, a performance which many viewers — although not myself — would consider the highlight of this DVD.

Ironically, Tull reveals a glaring flaw in their live work by striving to impress, shown throughout the DVD. Barre and company are on a screaming rampage with their respective instruments, unencumbered by vocals as they let loose and lay it down. And yet I don't care. Lynyrd Skynyrd they certainly ain't. Tull's instrumental free-for-alls are repetitive, bland and lacking in creativity. They probably thought they were really smokin', but my mind just languished as I hoped an end was near.

It's 1993, Anderson looks like a geezer, and they're dressed like morons; this is my favorite part. Anderson shows brilliance in versitility as the Briton metamorphoses into a folksy blues singer. The masterfully written "My Sunday Feeling" showcases some fine flute work and vocals. "So Much Trouble" was no less impressive, as Anderson soulfully sang and whaled on the harmonica. In this performance, his showmanship was subdued centering on high kicks and still more faux guitar playing with his ever-present flute. Coal miner costumes notwithstanding, this was a pleasure to watch.

Two songs on the DVD date back to 1970-71 at the Beat Club. These are slow, meditative ones with great emphasis on the piano and flute. Variety is the spice of this video. The remaining five songs date to 1986, mostly from their Out in the Green performance. Nothing remarkable here with regard to the songs or the presentation. This is similar to the Rockpop concert, although not as good and with somewhat more of those instrumental meanderings I mentioned.

Although I didn't enjoy it thoroughly, this is a fairly good DVD that Tull connoisseurs will appreciate. Jack in the Green: Live in Germany is set to be released on May 20 at a retail sales price of $14.98.

DVD Review: Giuliani Time

2007-09-15T22:04:00.000-07:00

What Giuliani Time lacks in style is well overshadowed by its compelling substance. Kevin Keating's acclaimed two-hour documentary slathers muck on Time magazine's 2001 "Person of the Year," Rudy Giuliani. This film is all about information rather than simple entertainment. Viewers must actually pay attention and perhaps fight through flashes of boredom, trusting that their valiance will be rewarded.

From Reagan adviser to two-term New York mayor, the ambitious film attempts to convince us of the dark side of Giuliani's celebrated career. The evidence presented suggests a pattern of lies, corruption, class-based bigotry, and moral compromises spanning three decades. Contradictory statements from the man himself go a long way in making the case.

A slew of interviewees paint Giuliani as a lowlife and a liar, with one dissenting voice. I suppose this lone naysayer was a tool of Keating's. This was a man named Myron, sporting the 1850s look complete with bow tie, antiquated spectacles, and white mutton chops. I would say that Myron was hand-picked to contradict the other sources, as his comical appearance surely discredits him in the eyes of some.

Revealing that Giuliani's father served time in a federal prison and alleging that he had a career in organized crime was a mistake. It runs in the family? This five-minute mention was overzealous, leaving me to wonder where else in the film Keating may have overshot.

Purported dishonesty while working for the Reagan administration and the United States Attorney's Office are prelude to a story of wanton police brutality and social inequity in New York as a direct result of Giuliani's leadership, specifically Giuliani policies such as "Quality of Life" and "Zero Tolerance." Conjecture is kept within reason as historical evidence and credible interview sources make an impressive case against Giuliani.

A full-scale assault on his "Broken Windows Theory" — a crime fighting approach Giuliani made famous as mayor — is where a combination of interviews and statistics make the film's most compelling argument.

As for the boredom, for me it mushroomed into annoyance a couple of times. The opening credits are flashed across a background of video footage of the Great Depression, World War II, and the Baby Boom. Why? Just because those eras were briefly mentioned apropos of nothing, really. Ultra dull/pointless footage of a demonstration in New York City during Giuliani's reign played interminably. All I could do was watch and hope, believing that this, too would pass.

Many documentaries pair fun with the facts, this one resembles a deadpan news special. Giuliani Time's intrigue was all in the interviews and statistics. Is Giuliani's hero image merely fallout from September 11? Is he just another lying, whoring politician? All things considered, this is an impressive and enlightening documentary. There were no bells and whistles to enamor me, but I had a good time watching.

Drugstore Pipe Tobaccos: Pouches of Simple Pleasure

2007-09-14T22:00:00.000-07:00

Supercilious connoisseurs cringe, beginners beam, and old-school puffers keep coming back. Whatever their preference, every pipe smoker finds himself back at the drugstore for another pouch. Grocers' tobacco selections aren't what they used to be, but there are still some diamonds in the rough. In some circles, drugstore tobaccos are reputed to be the drive-thru fare of pipe smoking. This bias is only partially deserved. As with any group of tobaccos, some shine while others suck.

Maybe I should pay my respects to the revered Captain Black, but I won't. I've never been compelled to buy a pouch, which costs nearly double that of other drugstore blends. Reviewers have given Captain Black White fairly high marks, but take care to mention its heavenly room note. The Captain does smell great, but I've never judged a tobacco on its merits as an air freshener.

I once knew a pipe smoker of some 30 years who puffed nothing but Captain Black White all day long. A hint of propylene glycol and a somewhat substandard leaf quality are the primary complaints, while many reviewers call White a good, well rounded aromatic. I gather this one's worth a try, but I've had my fill of sweet casing and black Cavendish.

Dream Castle Super Value Black Cavendish was my first tobacco, purchased by the 12-ounce bag from Albertson's. As a beginner, Super Value delighted me. Now, I'm repulsed by the memories of this syrupy blend. The taste of additives is accompanied by a muddy heel with tongue bite as afterplay. The Super Value line includes cherry and vanilla blends, which simply taste cheap. Top Value Whiskey is a horrid 12-ounce failure with all the appeal of burning garbage.

Half & Half is a unique blend, featuring a recently improved cut. The thicker ribbon cut of this old-school burley and bright mixture makes packing significantly easier. The rich flavor is nutty, tangy, sharp and medium-bodied. The bright half really makes this a distinctive smoke. For those misguided souls who smoke to please, the repugnance of its room note rivals that of a supermarket cigar. Every smoker should try Half & Half — in a corncob, as the bright leaves a strong flavor in a pipe for several smokes to come.

Sir Walter Raleigh: a fairly decent burley that doesn't quite live up to its name. Although it needs more re-lights than I care to bother with, there's nothing wrong with Raleigh other than a dash of mediocrity. Truly, this is a smooth, solid smoke. Rewarding flavor notwithstanding, I find it a bit too smooth, verging on blandness. The Aromatic version is simply fast-burning boredom.

I'm a burley lover, and I always keep a pouch of Carter Hall. This straightforward burley has a rich, nutty taste with flashes of cigar flavor emerging at times. Some dimwits liken Carter Hall to cigarette tobacco, a foolish misrepresentation that should be ignored. This is truly a pipe blend, a satisfying smoke with nothing to taste but good tobacco. It burns evenly with no bite whatsoever, making it an ideal all-day smoke. Best smoked from a cob, it pairs quite well with coffee and somewhat well with beer. For an extra kick, clean the cob with bourbon.

Reportedly, Kentucky Club is quite similar to Carter Hall, only with more nicotine and a somewhat more robust flavor. The average rating for Kentucky Club on the pipe smokers' website Tobaccoreviews.com is three out of four stars. Sadly, it is not sold in my locale so I cannot comment from experience.

The famous Prince Albert is mellow and nutty, yet flat and dull as it produces billows of blue smoke. Prince Albert is far from distasteful, but hardly satisfying. The only reason I kept the remainder of my first and only pouch is that I threw it left-handed and missed the trash can.

Lane Limited's Rum & Maple tastes like neither rum nor maple, but something like sorghum. It is a burley and Virginia blend that tastes more like lightly sweetened burley than anything. Rum & Maple is a pleasant smoke which unfortunately tends to burn hot and bite unless puffed judiciously. Being that the sweetness is on the modest side, this is a good aromatic for smokers who are less than thrilled with aromatics.

In comparison to bulk tobaccos, drugstore blends aren't actually that cheap. Convenience is hardly a good reason to buy from a drugstore: that rationale is what made McDonald's an international icon. Consider the enjoyable blends that have stood the test of time. It makes sense to consider drugstores a viable tobacco source. Odds are, you'll find just as many loser blends at the smokeshop as you would at Walgreens. Beyond the ambiance of a smokeshop and the boutique blends therein is the common drugstore, offering the practical simplicity of a real smoke.

Louisiana's Hottest: A Pepper Sauce Analysis

2007-07-19T21:57:00.000-07:00

Beyond the ignoble sweetness of ketchup is the perfect condiment for the enlightened palate. Pepper sauce, or hot sauce, is an indispensable deliverance from blandness and a zestful complement to soups, chicken, and a myriad of other foods. At less than $1 a six-ounce bottle, this red liquid was dinner's salvation when I lived off of Ramen and the like. Whether you're looking for caustic heat or rich flavor, there's a sauce for everyone.

Tabasco is surely the most famous brand. Made from Louisiana's unique tabasco peppers and aged in oak casks, this sauce is renowned for its distinctive flavor and abundance of heat. McIlhenny's gem elevates biscuits and gravy to heights to which mere black pepper cannot aspire. This mention aside, this article will deal with cayenne sauces.

Cayenne sauces offer a rich, tangy flavor with pleasingly moderate heat as opposed to the overpowering scorch Tabasco is known for. Frank's Red Hot, to my knowledge the only cayenne sauce to be advertised, is actually quite ordinary. At double the cost of lesser known competitors, buyers pay top dollar for the bottle's fancy black cap.

Louisiana is the second most common brand. It provides the full flavor of cayenne with a striking tanginess presumably attributable to a high vinegar content. The light red color with an orangish hue also suggests more vinegar and somewhat less cayenne. Louisiana brand is moderately hot. However, the heat of the last bottle I bought overcame the peppers' true flavor.

The majority of cayenne sauces are virtually identical to Louisiana, such as off-brands and the competitively priced Texas Pete. Truly, it's hard to go wrong when selecting a cayenne sauce. When in doubt, look for a deep red color and check the list of ingredients to confirm that peppers, not vinegar, is the number one ingredient. While true, "made in Louisiana" is a meaningless declaration. Cajun Chef is a noteworthy label, as it offers a richer cayenne flavor than most brands.

Ironically, the best happens to be among the most obscure and inexpensive. What was 39 cents is now a whopping 69 cents. With a scarlet color and supremely rich cayenne flavor, the white-labeled Crystal emerged as the kick-ass favorite. The aged cayenne's tangy, round flavor is unencumbered by an excess of heat. This brand's smoothness enhances its versatility. I don't eat Ramen anymore, but Crystal remains a valuable accompaniment to a satisfying meal.

Be it simple, bland, or delectable in its own right, finding the right condiment can take a dish to the next level. Whether it be the blaze of Tabasco or the fullness of Crystal, dining on farina or quiche, pepper sauce is a must for any kitchen. Take it from a former food service specialist — ketchup is for children, imbeciles, and trailer trash.

Restaurant Review: Luigi's Italian Cafe

2007-05-17T21:54:00.000-07:00

Real Italians serving up exceptional mom and pop Italian fare in a charming atmosphere is a rare find. Dallasites, I refer your cravings to Luigi's Italian Cafe. Located on Goliad Street in Rockwall, this sizeable family-operated restaurant offers an impressive menu with most entrees under ten dollars.

The sound of Italian accents on the sales floor and in the kitchen most importantly enhances the elegant, yet modest ambiance. Most of the softly played music is by Frank Sinatra. A small, tasteful bar is at the front of the building, while one of civilization's last smoking sections is in the back.

The menu boasts more than manicotti and some of the best pizza in town. A wide selection of savory northern Italian entrees is the true strength of Luigi's. I opted for the chicken Albanese, which is spaghettini and sautéed mushrooms in a brandy cream sauce served over a generous portion of chicken breast. Just for kicks, I ordered it with capers.

The typically delicious bread was pathetic that evening. It was a bit dry and lacking in Parmesan, olive oil, and basil. The Albanese, on the other hand, was decadent. The brandy cream sauce exuded a divine, seductive aroma. From the second my plate hit the table I began to fantasize. As billows of steam rose from the dish, I dove into a puddle of sauce with that lackluster bread. Having an ample amount of brandy, the sauce was creamy, rich, and utterly satisfying. This is one place where northern Italian dishes are not booze deficient.

An abundance of perfect mushrooms made me forget that the smattering of capers was on the bland side. The pasta was perfectly al dente. As I cut the tender chicken with my thin fork, the tines seemed to bend a bit. Better silverware would be nice. The tastes, smells, and textures of this dinner simply induced euphoria.

The entree was quite filling, but I had tiramisu nonetheless. The tiramisu was velvety and quite rich. Unfortunately, presentation won out over taste, as squeeze-bottle chocolate syrup had been drizzled atop. The overly sweet taste of this defilement certainly detracted from the dessert's true flavor.

The service was good and the meal was one to be remembered. I did not have coffee, but I caught a whiff of some being poured that smelled offensively old. I glanced at the practical wine list and took note of the decent prices. Luigi's has some of the best and most affordable Italian food in the metroplex. Of course, the secret is out and the place can get crowded and noisy. Italian food is one of life's greatest indulgences, and Luigi's is among my all-time favorites.

Music Review: Coco Montoya-Dirty Deal

2007-05-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

Veteran blues artist Coco Montoya has released his latest album, Dirty Deal. Montoya's vocal talent and fine guitar work are the selling point of this album, a smooth flowing hybrid of blues and southern rock. The flip side is Montoya's obsession with a particular subject which is manifested in every song.

These skillful performances offer a rich, classic sound with a mellow rock flavor full of bass, soulful guitar and classic sounds like the Texas shuffle. Although I wish Montoya's voice were a touch deeper, he's an effective blues singer. He also knows how to deliver the message via electric guitar.

The sound variety from song to song helped retain my interest throughout the CD. Some pieces have an upbeat quality while others are relatively somber and feature piano alongside guitar. The predominant feel is on the somber end of the spectrum. Montoya also lets up on the singing enough to prominently feature his crying guitar and other tasteful instrumental work.

Montoya's apparent fascination with relationship woes are the weakness of the album. Every song is about love gone wrong and some chick named "baby." By the fifth song, I was really hoping he would turn his abilities loose on another topic. Such songs are fine, but who needs 11 of them consecutively? The music world is overflowing with songs of romance and it's demise. Fans should demand something more creative and worthy than artists pissing and moaning over the triviality of alleged heartbreak.

If that's your thing, this assortment of solid blues/rock is worth picking up. I enjoyed listening to this one and I may give it another spin, but I wouldn't buy it due to the subject matter dominating the album. Dirty Deal is good, but not that good considering that it could have been much better. Then again, if you're feeling the cold woman blues and need musical accompaniment for a pity party, this one will get you there.

Music Review: MC Frontalot-Secrets from the Future

2007-05-11T21:48:00.000-07:00

The hip-hop genre is epitomized by poets and thugged-out simpletons. In a sea of gangstas and hos, a pasty white boy is producing ballads of robots and data encryption. MC Frontalot, pioneer of the "nerdcore" hip-hop subgenre, has released a new album titled Secrets from the Future. This is a follow-up to his Nerdcore Rising album, which was released in 2005.

This brand of music is certainly a unique concept, and the album features song titles such as "You Got Asperger's" and "I Hate Your Blog." Could this be somewhat interesting and carry the potential to entertain? If you think so, you might be as imbecilic as I was for taking this review.

I can only assume that Frontalot was going for laughs, and his drivel induced none from me. Drawing any parallels between his work and that of clever laugh rappers like Eminem would be a mistake. Frontalot's attempts at musical wit are absent of inspiration and writing quality while his delivery is flat. Simply put, the man's singing bores me to a greater extent than his flavorless lyrics.

"Bizarro Genius Baby?" That's correct. This song--which claimed the longest four minutes of my life--describes an alleged dream of the artist's in which he fathered an infant prodigy. A dream denied, I'm certain. The best line of this song was a lame ending to a sorry performance. As for "You Got Asperger's," Frontalot has clearly confused the symptoms of this syndrome with those of high-functioning autism.

Then again, song titles are irrelevant when every song on the CD sounds identical to the previous waste of cerebral activity. The instrumentation and vocal performances are equally bland. This album is not jarringly piss poor; it's just a worthless, insipid 52 minutes of "who cares" with a side of "shut the Hell up."

This is a man whiter than Al Gore feigning a rapper's voice in the clumsiest, most transparent way possible as a means for joking of pseudointellectual subjects in an asinine manner. Perhaps Frontalot should adopt a better front, as his lack of style and attitude is glaringly reflected in his work. Good music is not born of nonsense, which appears to be the strong point of his rhymes.

You hate my blog, Frontalot? It's divine in comparison to your album and that's not saying much. Frontalot's ideas could very well become something decent in more capable hands. Without actual talent and creativity to back up his concepts, they are merely pathetic and annoying. Secrets from the Future is an all-around loser.

Music Review: Elton John-Rocket Man: Number Ones

2007-04-19T21:46:00.000-07:00

Flamboyantly dressed pop master Elton John has released another compilation of his most prominent songs. A few problems aside, Rocket Man: Number Ones is a good collection of John's best loved hits. Why care about yet another Elton John anthology? Offering 17 songs, this album is more expansive than his 1974 Greatest Hits record, for example. It is not a complete collection, but a useful addition to a personal Elton John collection. Let's further examine the "why care" question.

John's skillful work features intelligent, often poetic lyrics and tasteful, understated instrumentation. Whether singing exuberantly or meditatively, his vocal talent is obvious. His style is rather distinctive. John is like Lapsang Sushong — striking flavor, but not everybody's cup of tea. If you're looking for screaming guitars, you won't find it here. I find the blatant '70s influence on his work unfortunate. I love smoky teas, but John left me craving George Thorogood.

The album spans more than two decades of John's distinguished career. From "Crocodile Rock" to "Tiny Dancer," many of John's best works are featured. Could this be the definitive Elton John collection? Not likely, as clear shortcomings are part of the package. The chief flaw is perhaps a special recording of "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me." This is a lackluster live version, glaringly marred by guest vocalist George Michael and repetitive cheers from fans. I found this to be an asinine bastardization of a once respectable song. In addition, "Honky Cat" was omitted from this CD.

Avid fans may jump on this album and for good reason. Nevertheless, I don't see it as a slam-dunk. For moderate fans who already have John's Greatest Hits album, I see no reason to consider paying for this one. Besides, one cannot ignore the George Michael blunder. This collection is large, but not entirely complete and clearly not immaculate. I find that one or two songs can make a significant difference in an album's worth. This one is strictly for big fans and people who collect CDs compulsively.

It is a large collection. Like a cheap pork chop, there is fat to be trimmed. With 17 songs, the buyer will surely like more than a couple. Other songs will inspire one to depress the "skip" button. The album's breadth is pro as well as con. Even so, Rocket Man-Number Ones is a good buy for the Elton John fan who wants more.

DVD Review: Business Johnson

2007-03-24T21:43:00.000-07:00

Six shouting black men--the best seven minutes I've had in awhile. The brainchild of writer/co-director Casper Frank, high-flying comedy short Business Johnson delivers manic laughs via raw humor.

The film entails a sextet of comedians relaxing on a front porch, joking around and having laughs at one another's expense. This was not a garden-variety assortment of wannabe entertainers clumsily spewing pornographic humor. Obscenities flew and quick wits prevailed as the comedians colorfully derided their comrades.

Rodney Perry's character soon strutted through the front door to join them. He took center stage to tell a joke. You may have heard this one before, but never told so masterfully. His delivery was animated and enthusiastic while his poise was unwavering. The story was sporadically interrupted by snide remarks and ensuing insults. The set pulsated with raw energy from men who looked common enough to be sitting on a porch in your neighborhood.

From a wildly obese young man to an acerbic geezer, these are distinctive characters with something to say. The playfulness of their interaction was lively and real. Their delivery was smooth and their timing was perfect. These gentlemen are well-versed in the art of strident sarcasm.

I would have liked to hear more from a couple of the characters. The joke which comprises most of the short crowded the dialogue, stifling some real potential.

You may recognize some of the players and they're all worth knowing of. The cast: Rodney Perry (Johnson Family Vacation), Larry B. Scott (Revenge of the Nerds), Jerod Mixon (Me, Myself & Irene), Alonzo Bodden (Last Comic Standing), Reggie de Morton and Adolphus Ward.

In a mere seven minutes, I laughed six times. Business Johnson is pure comedy; nothing but smooth performances by comedians with a clue. This short is clearly the start of something big. Surely there will be a movie, and I'll have to watch it.

DVD Review: Zach Galifianakis-Live at the Purple Onion

2007-03-23T21:40:00.000-07:00

Some comedians send the audience laughing into a coughing fit. Others should retreat from the stage in disgrace. In Zach Galifianakis-Live at the Purple Onion we see an unremarkable performance kept afloat by a man with an interesting style.

On stage at San Francisco's Purple Onion, a man with unkempt hair, a listless demeanor and a dark draught beer within easy reach is gingerly playing a piano in the opening minutes of the DVD. With his long beard, Galifianakis looks like the Gorton's fisherman on 80 proof. With slow deliberation, he begins the show with a crack at his last name and a few small jokes.

Before rising to begin the show in earnest, Galifianakis flirts with the piano keys, pausing to meditatively sip his beer and stroke his hair. Exuding the hopeless psychological fatigue and stifled intensity of a man keeping familiar psychosis at bay, his visage was not that of a typical funnyman. At this point, I damn sure wondered what he had up his sleeve.

When he started cooking, a bland smell came from the kitchen. The best stand-up performances hinge on rants, stories, and acerbic remarks. Galifianakis mostly sticks to quick jokes that are largely mediocre. The only verbal elements that really resonated with me were clusters of screamed obscenities and self-deprecation. He occasionally feigned rage and spewed vulgar vitriol.

Like much of his act, it didn't go far enough. A common mistake, missed opportunities are the worst thing to see in comedy. He failed to adequately capitalize on a few sterling opportunities that could have been a great boost to this performance.

The show wasn't always funny, but it was intriguing. Galifiniakis shifts from joking to sitting at the piano with that dark look on his face. As he stared in silence, I wondered what was in his head. Was he ready to give up or just launch an explosive tirade? These moments were suspenseful. Although probably faked, the mental illness element is a unique and flavorful component of his work. Then again, he does exhibit the grooming habits of a psychotic derelict.

His interaction with the audience was skillfully done. A couple of people were incorporated into the act and became something of a staple. Galifaniakis was curt and sardonically insulting towards them, but was jovial enough to keep the participants laughing.

Zach's brother, Seth, was rather entertaining. Outtakes of an interview with the identical twin were scattered throughout the DVD. Seth deftly played a fashion-challenged, emotionally sensitive hick. Outtakes of Zach and a friend making the alleged road trip to San Francisco is also featured — which amounts to a whopping "who cares."

Galifianakis has undeniable shortcomings as a comedian. One glaring example is a rant he attempted. Words that painfully missed the mark came out clumsily while his delivery was soft and uncertain. He clearly does not possess the skill or talent to execute an articulate rant. If he wants to look crazy, he's got to complete the ensemble.

Overall, he put on a good show at the Purple Onion. Nevertheless, it wasn't dry or raw enough for me, nor did I laugh my ass off more than twice. It was good, but not that good. Ultimately, jokes without bite fail to make me care; his clever demeanor notwithstanding.

Music Review: Aqueduct-Or Give Me Death

2007-03-15T23:37:00.000-07:00

Even when played at a low volume, some albums still manage to suck out loud. Aqueduct's Or Give Me Death is a pathetic collection of unimaginative songs that are lackluster at best. The Seattle-based group's newest album is described as a so-called Futurist classic rock record. "Futurist" and "classic" have canceled each other out while this album does not meet the definition of "rock."

Although usually considered a positive quality, a prominent weakness of these songs is that one can easily understand all the lyrics. Nine of the 12 songs are lamentations about women and relationship problems. How original. Featuring rock cliches like "baby" and the ever-poignant "bitch," these songs will bring bile to your mouth and disdain to your heart. To be fair, the lyrics are dull, inane, candy-assed, and completely lacking in artistic merit.

Then, there are the clumsy, failed attempts at rhyming by the horrendous vocalist who inspires the listener to either take a nap or throw a piece of furniture. The man's voice is unwaveringly dull and listless. Think of an upbeat Lynn Staley minus the dark passion and any semblance of talent. Perhaps this band would be better served if their front-man were to shut the Hell up.

On the other hand, the instrumentation is lifeless and asinine at best. A synthesizer is used with reckless abandon, imparting not a true retro feel, but an equally loathsome neo-1970's flavor. I'm sure this is the centerpiece of that "Futurist" element they're apparently so proud of. The percussion work is pitifully bland and only faintly noticeable. Seriously, a child sedated by antipsychotics could have easily been holding the sticks.

Each song is virtually devoid of guitar playing — the cornerstone of rock. When fingertips were actually put to strings, the result is an almost nonexistent and supremely disinteresting sputtering of quiet notes that do not rise to the comparatively dazzling status of "ametuerish." Furthermore, bass is nowhere to be found.

Ultimately, one could not drink, dance, or brood to the lifeless absence of beat, rhythm, and anything resembling quality. There is everything to be said about feeling the music. David Terry and his colleagues apparently didn't, so we can't either.

To me, this album exemplifies music at its worst and should serve well as a cautionary tale for aspiring musicians and no-talent hacks alike. This was the product of good intentions gone horribly wrong and delusionals who should be waiting tables at Denny's. Thankfully, the 12 songs add up to a mere 42 minutes and four seconds. It's nice to know they did something almost right.

Creativity and purpose are what makes good music. This album was made without these and all other fundamentals by people who are clearly without talent or a clue. Or Give Me Death: splendid idea.

Sir Elliot's Tobacco and Coffee

2007-03-11T23:34:00.000-07:00

An impressive smoke over great coffee; smells like Sir Elliot's Tobacco & Coffee. Sir Elliot's operates three smokeshops, all in the Dallas area. I visited the location at Preston Road and Frankford Road, where an upscale tobacco store has been merged with a serene coffeehouse.

The comfortingly traditional atmosphere is classy without being snooty. Upon entering, the smoker is greeted by a row of jars filled with pipe tobacco, rich colors of wood and small, pristine tables. Light up in many smokeshops and the clerk freaks out. How perverse. At this joint, proper ashtrays and a hint of cigar smoke offer a warm welcome. The attentive clerk is always personable and professional.

My first order of business was to ogle the insanely expensive pipes held in an elegant display case. If you're in the market for a Savanelli or an ornate meerschaum, come take a look. Most of us will not find the right pipe at this shop. Seemingly as an afterthought, a wall display of inexpensive pipes hangs along side the high-roller section. Most of these are smooth Italian pieces with substandard vulcanite stems, ranging in price from $20 to $35.

Rather than taking a Missouri Meerschaum yet again, I rolled the dice on a ruggedly seductive $20 Chzechoslovakian briar. Sounds dubious, but the christening smoke showed real potential.

Bulk pipe tobacco, on the other hand, is the shop's strength. The hallmark of Sir Elliot's is practical, high-quality blends. These are not silly blends of leaves that have been violated by berry, jalapeno and gagging dessert flavorings. You will find elegant aromatics, traditional blends with an eclectic touch and rich burleys among the 29 blends sold. Then again, English is not offered and I find that too many of their blends contain black Cavendish. Two ounces will set you back $5.50 with sales tax.

For this visit, I selected Mark Twain. This ribbon-cut joy is predominantly burley and black Cavendish. The smoke-lover's namesake burns evenly and steadily. It yields a round flavor with touches of mocha and fruit that stop short of overshadowing the natural tobacco flavors.

The coffee is self-serve. A large cup which includes one free refill is $1. I sampled Highlander Grogg. I'm not often thrilled with flavored coffees, but this one surprised me. Top-quality beans had been sublimely flavored with rich maple and a bold kick of rum. I loaded my quarter bent and lit up to find that Highlander Grogg also paired intriguingly with Mark Twain. Numerous coffees, produced by Sir Elliot's, are sold in bulk as well as by the cup.

There is, of course, a respectable walk-in humidor. The cigar prices are decent, but not the best in North Dallas. Breathtaking humidors are displayed such that they are a wonderful part of the atmosphere. There are high-end lighters, but no Zippos. I was impressed with the above average assortment of pipe accessories.

Sir Elliot's is a great place for the smoking enthusiast and a must-visit for the pipe smoker. Starbucks: eat my ashes.

DVD Review: Ren & Stimpy-The Lost Episodes

2007-03-01T21:27:00.000-08:00

An infamous cartoon has outdone itself. Ren & Stimpy - The Lost Episodes is, for the most part, a knee-slapping triumph. These adult-oriented installments of the dog and cat duo's exploits were written — and rejected — in 1991. Creator John Kricfalusi is back in control and once again performing as the voice of Ren. The six episodes are rife with slapstick humor of 'roid-rage intensity, profanity, borderline pornography, and chain-smoking characters.

Essentially, this is the same show you may have watched 15 years ago — in extreme form. Stimpson J. Cat is still a slow-witted goon and Ren Hoek still bashes him upside the head. During the introduction, Kricfalusi said that these episodes were crafted per fans' mailed requests.
The first episode, which aired on Spike TV in 2003, is aptly titled "Naked Beach Frenzy."

Inordinately voluptuous bimbos drawn by a female cartoonist are the centerpiece. The crackhead-looking chihuahua is quickly hopped up on testosterone with Stimpy soon to follow. In an apparent appeal to men with a cartoon fetish, Z-cup breasts bounce ad nauseum. Puerile fixations aren't limited to the female anatomy; testicles, hairy man ass and pierced Jim jugs are prominently featured. Recommendation: watch while drinking, not eating.

"Stimpy's Pregnant," on the other hand, was a product of brilliance. A characteristically abusive, narcissistic Ren is cast as subservient Stimpy's husband. Ren is selfishness incarnate regarding his wife's pregnancy. The characters' interaction is a wild social commentary on egoistic pigs and the doormats who are drawn to them. Stereotypes make for great comedy.

Just when you thought the sickly dog couldn't be more vicious and deranged, "Ren Seeks Help" shows you his savage side. Ren victimizes Stimpy in some unspeakable way, cries in remorse, and seeks psychotherapy. This episode reveals the the roots of his violent nature and ends with a twist that is among the greatest moments in cartoon history.

The Kricfalusi team did their worst in "Fire Dogs 2," which entails little more than Ren and Stimpy sucking up to a fire chief. This tribute to the human colon glorifies atrocious bathroom humor. Other prominent elements are profound squalor and the plethora of jelly rolls hanging from the guest character. Attention, bulimics; a five-minute dose of this optical ipecac will get you there.

Sympathizing with the desperate plight of a large-breasted woman, the duo takes extreme measures to help in "Altruists." The slapstick action and creativity typical of the series are offered in peak form.

One might have seen this story coming. In "Onward and Upward," Ren and Stimpy are a gay couple. The sexual references are graphic as the couple live in penury and soon move into what they perceive to be high society. It is entertaining and highly inventive. Unfortunately, hardcore vomit and phlegm pseudo-humor takes center stage.

A good amount of the jokes and random acts of insanity are hilarious. I found Ren's new level of madness to be a joy to watch. As for the mind-jarring bathroom humor, a creative team that is clearly high on twisted genius could have done better. I don't seek out nausea, but if you enjoyed the gross aspects of the television series, you'll be enamored with what they've done with the basest of bodily functions.

All things considered, I'll surely watch this one again — over a six-pack. Quality characters and unbridled creativity make this compilation worth watching.