Maria Bamford's Ask Me About My New God - An Album Review

In recent Louis CK specials, Louis has helped us laugh at the awkwardness of divorce and the grossness of narcissism. Patton Oswalt points fingers at parenthood and religion, while Sarah Silverman stays fairly well focused on race relations and bed-wetting. Mike Birbiglia’s most recent album actually made his sleepwalking disorder interesting, heartbreaking, and oddly hilarious. Tig Notaro, in an unexpected turn at the Largo Theater last year, brought her breast cancer into light and reiterated how vital comedy can be to coping with personal disaster. If comedy accomplishes anything profound or great, it’s this: it teaches us to laugh in the face of unpleasantry, even despair.

And there’s a good chance no one has touched as closely to the void as Maria Bamford. Those familiar with Bamford know her comedy revolves primarily around her bi-polar disorder and her debilitating paranoia. Those unfamiliar with Bamford may not be prepared for her unique approach to comedy, which relies exclusively on character voices, random internal dialogues, and winding explorations of her family’s inability to understand Maria as a fragile teetering being. (In fact, Bamford’s family is extremely supportive of her comedy, as her parents declared by serving as the sole audience for Bamford’s SPECIAL SPECIAL SPECIAL recorded earlier this year in their living room.)

            

As a huge fan of Maria Bamford, I think her newest record – Ask Me About My New God – is her best yet. It’s tough for me not to use words like “genius” or “masterpiece” or “more inspiring than a Soul Surfer / Dead Poets mash-up” when discussing this record, so I’ll just say it’s really super crazy awesome amazing. Here Bamford further tackles her mental instability, as well as her inability to function within her family and society, but she also addresses (at length) her suicidal tendencies and temptations. She even offers profound reasons to stay alive, such as spite. This is not the stuff – depression, anxiety, mental illness, suicide – one expects from the year’s best comedy record, but Bamford is a brave one, revealing all her unwanted thoughts without reserve. As really good comedy should do.

Kylesa's Ultraviolet - An Album Review

According to Online, the term “kilesa” comes from the Pali language of Central India. In Buddhism, “kilesa” (spelling dictated per dialect) refers to a mental state of emotional distress or thought poison. The band Kylesa, from Georgia's fair city of Savannah, where the trees pull more tourism than the pecan pie or the hospitality, seeks to embody this cerebral slide. I can't speak to all that, except to say that when you're writing an animal attack death scene into a story, Kylesa is the perfect tonal inspiration.

Also from Online, one learns the band Kylesa fulfills most of the musical genres my mother considers “devil worshipping” – sludge metal, doom metal, death metal, stoner metal, psychedelic rock, fuzz rock, crust punk. I’m too new to Kylesa (and all this genre lingo) to say who worships who here. Kylesa's syrupy guitars and spiraled bass pry-back an Inferno-reflective doorway into the sky, assuring that Up remain rooted in Down, and Hope swings hinged on Despair. Vocally the album swims: yells, cleans, choral, shared male and female leads. Lyrically, Ultraviolet questions the validity of Absolute Truth. And the Christ follower in me, prone to similar curiosities, welcomes their inquiry.

Point blank: this record works. Slow and dire. Thick but beautiful. Ultraviolet pierces sensation, dividing the blur between conviction and suspicion. I’ve found profound creative inspiration in this record. And, called back, I’ve found Kylesa’s discography genre-ly scattered but consistently progressive.

Avenged Sevenfold's Hail The King : An Album Review

I never liked these guys, but they sell a shit-ton of t-shirts. When I taught high school English in Kansas City back nearly a decade ago, every other t-shirt was either Avenged Sevenfold, Fall-Out Boy or Bob Marley. I listened to some Avenged Sevenfold back in their City Of Evil days, and it did not move me. The guitars were finger-plucky, weirdly erratic, like darkly electric blue-grass, and the vocals were operatic, but they did not move me.

This new Hail To The King record is a lazy continuation of Avenge's already turgid reign. As a progressive metal record, AHTK fails. As a retrospective hat-tip to the slim history of late 80s hair metal, Judas Priest, or any Ozzy album featuring Zakk Wylde, the album serves as a catchy karaoke track of drunk sung nostalgias. I can't shake the notion that this record would have killed in the early 90s. But this ain't the early 90s. Avenged Sevenfold hallows-out a fine tribute to their predecessors and influences, but, like so much of their cultural fodder, I predict they'll shrink in the wash and fatten moths.

TEXAS CHAINSAW 3D Film Review

My buddy Jill joined me last night for a private screening of Texas Chainsaw 3D at the local Premiere Cinema. We did not schedule a private screening, it just appears no one else in BCS wanted to subject themselves to such murderous mayhem at 5:15 on a pretty Wednesday evening. So be it. Still, Jill and I both walked away more than pleased, admitting this Chainsaw drastically exceeded our expectations. 

A little background: this is the seventh film in the Leatherface franchise, but it's the first legitimate sequel to follow the 1974 original. Other Texas Chainsaw Massacre films in the ‘80s and ‘90s offered far out supplementary Sawyer family retellings. Thanks to Michael Bay productions, 2003 saw a cheesy remake of Tobe Hooper’s original, followed in 2006 by a stellar (and ridiculously brutal) prequel to the original. The fact that Texas Chainsaw 3D is the first actual sequel, following the events of Sally and company's demise, makes this one a must-see horror-geek priority.

The film begins with spliced footage from the '74 original, showing all the kill scenes (including the meathook!) and finishing on Sally's escape from the Sawyer house through the dining room window. The original footage ends with Leatherface dancing in the street and Sally laughing hysterically in the escaping truck bed. The new footage picks up immediately with a sheriff's car driving past Sally and the pick-up truck. This sequel begins not only the same day, but within an hour of the original film's finale. Not even Kill Bill 2 shaved it that close.

Through a series of events the film progresses to the present day where we meet college aged Heather Miller who suddenly finds out she was adopted from the Sawyer family. She never knew of her birth family until her biological grandmother, Verna Sawyer, died. As the last remaining member of the Sawyer family, Heather loads up her road-tripping New Orleans bound friends and heads to Texas to check out her inheritance. As expected from the infamous Sawyer family, Heather inherits more than she bargains for and discovers something distinctly powerful in her newly realized roots. 

This is a lot of plot to rehash, but I rehashed it for one reason: Jill and I both agreed that, more than any other film in Leatherface franchise, Texas Chainsaw 3D told an engaging story about the value of family, the crux of identity crisis, the commitment of friendship (in and out of the face of betrayal), and even of old school small town family feuds. Indeed, some of the 3D effects, dismemberment gore, and direction were laughable, but none ever stole from the story, which is something I never thought I would say about a Leatherface film. Generally these things follow a strict formula of kids in a van + kids on the wrong road = kids in a scattered putrid pile. Not this time. Here the film had a bit of heart and actually entertained as a narrative and a gore flick. Go figure.

I gave Texas Chainsaw 3D 3.5 ferris wheel hops out of 5. Yes, it was silly and gross, featuring abdominal gore and full face-peeling, but it also expanded a flat franchise with a bit of integrity and style. I heartily recommend this flick even if you have not seen the original.

Ciders, Southern Star, and Pecan Porter

          I mentioned last month that I would focus on hard ciders, particularly Texas brewed ciders, in this month’s Still Drinking. Well, it turns out I have a lot to learn about hard ciders. They’re a completely different type of beverage. Even as I attempted to taste various ciders, I realized complexities far greater than I imagined. I simply need more time and more tastings before I can say anything of value about ciders. However, I can say now that the two best ciders I’ve tasted thus far are Leprechaun’s Dry Cider (Texas brewed but not available in BCS as of yet) and Julian Hard Cider (brewed in California, available at our local SPECs). If I’ve learned anything through my cider tastings it’s that I mostly enjoy the dry ciders. I just don’t know why or what that even means, except that dry ciders seem – to this ignorant dolt, at least – to be a bit less sweet and more like a Brut champagne than anything Woodchuck cideries have yet to produce. Oh, and I also have learned that Woodchuck Cider is an unfair example of hard cider’s potentials. But that’s all I know for now. More to come in this department.
            Take note: Harvey Washbangers and Southern Star – our local Conroe Brewery – are teaming up on the evening of January 17 for a Southern Star Takeover event not to be missed. Southern Star, with access to all of Washbangers’ tap handles, will feature new ales including an Extra Pale Pine Belt Pale Ale (self explanatory), Cherry Hatchet Stout (a cheery infused version of their Buried Hatchet Stout), Buried Hatchet Nitro Stout (should be creamy), Smoked Lager (very exciting), Jasmine Infused Bombshell Blond (hitting zen just thinking about it), and Old Pontificator (I don’t know what that one is: I’m just looking forward to it). Of course, representatives and brewers from Southern Star will be in attendance to greet glad drinkers, and I’m sure they’ll have a little schwag on hand. Lord knows beer geeks love the brewery schwag nearly as much as they love the beer. Check Harvey Washbangers’ Facebook page for scheduling and details.
            A feature beer this month that I can’t seem to get enough of is (512)’s Pecan Porter. Dear my Lord – this is an amazing beer. I tried the Pecan Porter on tap several years ago at the Flying Saucer in Austin and found it to be both boring and totally pecanless. Well, either (512) changed their recipe or I changed my palette because the Pecan Porters I’ve enjoyed recently are already in the running for Best Beer of 2013. Weighing in at 6.5% ABV, (512)’s Pecan Porter is a malty miracle - full bodied, complex and dark as a Confederate's heart - enriched boldly by Texas grown pecans. (Buying pints of this beer supports several local economies!) (512)’s Pecan Porter is a part of (512)’s year round “Core 4”, along with their Wit, Pale Ale, and IPA. I don’t know enough about this brewery, and I’ve never tried any of the other Core 4 offerings, so I’m thinking a little Saturday excursion to Austin is in full order.