Best of 2014

6) Her Name is Calla - Navigator

I occasionally take pride in the fact that I don't listen to the radio. I don't like it when the possibility exists that I'm listening to something because some executive decided it was marketable. Of course it's pretty god damn presumptuous to think that the music pushed by those nameless executives is any less honest or authentic. There's a lot of artists on the radio working hard, expressing themselves honestly. I just like the challenge of going out and finding something on my own. Searching blogs endlessly for something not many have discovered yet is rewarding. The product of hard work is always more rewarding than spoon-fed distractions.

Her Name is Calla is one of those artists stumbled upon after a few hours surfing random bandcamp sites of hungry musicians looking for a break, or just looking for someone to listen. The voice of the band is Tom Morris and he's not so unlike Thom Yorke in his delivery, his thoughtful lyrics. Navigator is full of memorable moments, explorations of different stylistic deliveries. This is art rock at it's finest which means it's occasionally weird and jarring, but it always manages to be disarming. Navigator is a hidden gem of an album that might not get that much fanfare or any time on the radio, but it's certainly worth a listen.

Best of 2014

7) Run the Jewels - Run the Jewels 2

Run the Jewels made it onto my list last year too and their follow-up is just as fun, just as ridiculous, just as occasionally poignant. If you asked me point blank why a humble metalhead is so obsessed with this rap duo while being generally unaware of the rap scene as a whole I wouldn't know how to respond. El-P and Killer Mike just sound like they're having so much fun writing music and I love sharing that with them.

Best of 2014

8) Morbus Chron - Sweven

There were a few death metal bands active in the 90's that were remarkably ahead of their time, Death, Gorguts, and Obituary immediately come to mind, but their progressive approach to death metal was short lived and difficult to replicate. As the years progressed myriad musicians have contributed to what modern death metal is today, but I can't help but feel nostalgic for those early 90's albums of raw brilliance. There's a particular sound and feel of music from that era. It's distinctly rough around the edges and warm reflecting the use of analog equipment and beaten up, mangled instruments recorded in dark, moldy basements. With Sweven, Morbus Chron have managed to replicate that distinctive early 90's death metal sound so artfully that without prior knowledge I would have thought they toured right beside Death during their rise to legendary fame. That is quite an accomplishment and Morbus Chron deserve every ounce of attention this record has received over the past year.

Best of 2014

9) Lantlos - Melting Sun

It's difficult to explain the origin of Lantlos or any post-black metal band for that matter. Black metal is by far the most evil and caustic of all music yet it provoked a handful of bands to start a movement of surreal beauty, of purity. I've always loved the tonal distance between black metal and post-black metal but have rarely been objectively impressed by individual post-black metal albums. Melting Sun is a definite standout. It's black metal influences have been buried far beneath the surface leaving the resulting style more reminiscent of post-rock or indie shoegaze. Forced to give a comparison I would have to say this feels a little like a lost Devin Townsend Band record. It has that sort of grandiosity with thick guitar tones and soaring vocals. And much like Devin Townsend's work it's obvious this record was designed by musicians who understand heavy music, who have a history punctuated by big, evil riffs. Lantlos chose to take that education and do something original with it, something polished and mature. I applaud them for doing so.

Best of 2014

10) Bohren und Der Club of Gore - Piano Nights

There's a dimly lit, smoky bar somewhere in my dreams. I sit there sipping an old fashioned, thinking about past triumphs and mistakes while Bohren und Der Club of Gore plays their signature brand of funeral jazz quietly in the corner. Bohren is the kind of band you can always rely on, doing what they do best without taking many risks or altering their approach all that much. Piano Nights is slow, comfortingly warm, and has just the right number of memorable melodies to keep your attention. I could see how most would dismiss them at boring or unengaging but for me Bohren is a gentle opioid wave, calming and meditative. When the earth seems to be spinning a little too fast for it's own good, Bohren is a patient reminder of the choice to be calm, that it's ok to occasionally take a step back and just watch it spin.

Show: Neurosis with SubRosa at the Gothic Theater

The first time I listened to SubRosa's most recent album "More Constant than the Gods," it was a cool autumn day and I was driving up to my family's summer house in the Adirondacks of upstate New York. I remember the vibrant colors of the leaves, both beautiful and melancholy, a quiet symbol of dormancy, of the fragile nature of all things. When I arrived at the old lopsided house at the base of Eleventh mountain I remember telling my mother and father that I had just listened to the best album of the year. They responded with a lukewarm, semi-sarcastic, "Oh yeah?... that's nice."

It's crushing to me that I can't share this music with more people, but it's alright. I chose to love fringe culture. I chose to love the oddities of existence and the people who choose to rebel from the normal and in doing so I've doomed myself to walk alone.

Alone except for my loyal friend and roommate Matt who informed me a couple months ago that SubRosa would be playing with Neurosis at the Gothic Theater in Englewood. Needless to say this was a show I was looking forward to. Neurosis is after all the pioneer of Sludge, that bastard child of hardcore punk and doom. Think Black Flag with a heavy dose of Black Sabbath and you're most of the way there.

To mentally prepare for the evening we decided to hit up a brewpub, Brews on Broadway, about a block down the street from the venue. There we lounged at a table sipping English style ales, eating pizza, and watching a toddler run laps around the dining area looking for any attention she could get while her parents were enjoying a moment of peace.

After a few beers it was time to walk down to the Gothic, tickets in our hands, excitement in our hearts. Upon entering the opening band, In the Company of Serpents, had just finished their set. Although I would've liked to get a taste of them, I was there for the headliners. In no time SubRosa was on stage tuning up, pleading with the man at the soundboard with the universal gesture of LOUDER, an extended index finger pointed to the ceiling.

Then the lights went down and a blue glow emerged from behind the band as they unleashed a sound I won't soon forget. Thundering guitar but with the accompaniment of dual electric violins played through vintage Sunn guitar amps. I knew violin was responsible for most of the lead melody of this particular band, but seeing it in person was surreal. I think it was the way these two women played them. They waled on them while headbanging violently, a description that sounds clumsy and masculine, but in reality they did so with a grace I wasn't prepared for.

They chose only a few tracks from their most recent album to share with us, but since this is sludge, each track was a 10 minute epic of emotional turbulence. Each led by the charismatic frontwoman, Rebecca Vernon, a slight redhead with eyes of fire and a chanting voice both comforting and frightening. It was as if she were gently showing us the darkness in existence, guiding us through it with a softly glowing torch. It was over all too soon, but they're exit left the stage ready for the legendary Neurosis.

Neurosis set up in much the same way. Louder, louder until they looked vaguely content then the lights went low and with a flash a storm of noise descended on the cramped venue. Their tone was bigger, fuller, more organic, a sign that they've been around a little longer, have made a life out of shaping frequencies into crashing waves. The sound seeped into me, passed through me. I felt like if at any time I rebelled I might drown in it, helplessly flailing in an ocean current. Neurosis is known for being heavy and they didn't disappoint choosing their most explosive tracks, some starting quietly but discordantly, bating us into the eventual explosion of fury.

The two guitarists/vocalists in the band, Steve Von Till and Scott Kelly, were unwavering in their delivery. Together they had such an iconic stage presence, Von Till the eccentric with a gravelly hypnotic voice, Kelly a beast with a roar that made the microphone in front of him largely inconsequential. The percussion seemed to be the backbone showcasing tribal beats that kept each song lumbering forward unstoppable. I understand now why they were so influential and also why to this day they remain largely in the shadows. The shear force of Neurosis is overwhelming to the point of being awe-inspiring.

This was a special show, a show I wish I could've shared with more people, a show that expressed very clearly that there are some people who aren't afraid of the darkness, who aren't afraid of anything, and there are people who don't listen to sludge.

Movie: The Films of Dusan Makavejev

After recently watching two of Dusan Makavejev's most popular films I feel the need to write something about them so as not to forget completely the emotions stirred by the experience. The two films were WR: Mysteries of the Organism and Sweet Movie. Both deal largely with the same underlying theme: The influence of socioeconomics on human behavior.

To even begin describing the films a little background information is necessary. In the 1930's a man named Wilhelm Reich began making waves in the infancy of psychoanalytics. Reich is best known for his theory of Orgone energy which can briefly be described as the electrical energy emitted by all organisms including humans. Reich believed that concentrating this energy by isolating an organism in a wooden box insulated with metal, certain maladies could effectively be cured, namely cancer. Now, this is a bit crazy but the theories that preceded this ridiculous invention are not so crazy. Reich believed that many of the destructive idiosyncrasies harbored by humanity were the result of the refusal to accept and to explore sexuality. He would go on to establish clinics where people could receive sex therapy. In these clinics they would be taught about contraceptives and the idea of free love, challenging their general fright and ignorance of their more basic desires. This was obviously controversial at the time because free love is a concept which is fundamentally incompatible with capitalism. Capitalism is predicated on individual ownership and looking through that lens one could say that a relationship is a situation of mutual ownership. The members of a relationship own each other, including the act of sex, preventing other people from borrowing what could be seen as a protected commodity. Free love in contrast can be seen as a very communist ideology. In communism, all commodities are owned by everyone. Individual ownership doesn't exist so within that system relationships would be dissolved and people would share each other equally, share the act of sex equally. Reich believed this was the more advantageous approach because if sex was free, people would partake in the act more often resulting in an overall healthier society.

WR: Mysteries of the Organism focuses on two major characters, a passionate activist obsessed with sparking the fire of communist revolution with the ultimate purpose of free love, and a free lover by nature who instead of trying to change the world around her, simply indulges herself without worrying about the guidelines of the socioeconomic climate. As the narrative develops the finer details of the absurdity born of taking yourself too seriously become clear. The lover lives perfectly happily while the activist is constantly mired in words and ideals rather than ever once partaking in the behavior she so passionately advocates. Yet I think the underlying point of the film is to express the necessity of both characters within a society. Activists take it upon themselves to guide social evolution, they affect policy, they influence perception, they express new ideas and educate the masses. Lovers on the other hand live, they reap the spoils of the hard work of the activists while showing the activists a clear portrait of what they're fighting to preserve. Lovers have no qualms about transgressing the rules of modern society and because of that they are a model of the happiness activists so passionately strive for. Unfortunately one must come to terms with the fact that social evolution is a cross-generational process and many activists and lovers on both sides of any conflict are going to wind up being casualties. 

Sweet Movie is very similar although more expansive in theme. The main character in Sweet Movie is a relatively naive and ignorant young girl who is exposed first to the idea of capitalist ownership then the extreme lack of ownership in anarchism. The film begins with her being sold off to an absurdly rich man who is seeking sexual purity. He's bothered by the risk of disease from prostitutes and as an alternative decides to buy a wife to fulfill his desires as efficiently and safely as possible. This is the ultimate expression of sexuality in the context of capitalism. Sex is bought like any other product or service and the transaction is very industrial, mechanical. There is no emotional development, no sense of partnership, simply the pursuit of the solution to loneliness and paying for it with the spoils of hard work. Obviously this is a sensationalized example, but it does make one reflect on how little of a stretch this is from reality. The girl, disgusted by the thought of herself as an object is cast away into society and eventually winds up a member of a group of anarchists. But she finds their existence just as disgusting as the capitalist. Since anarchy is predicated on the ultimate freedom of the individual, any individual is free to take part in any behavior available to them, and given that we're ultimately a disgusting organism, mired in blood, piss, shit, and ejaculate, anarchic life is a bit disgusting to someone previously initiated with clean civilization, which can be looked at as the avoidance of bodily fluids and the control of bodily urges. The final scene of the film shows the girl as an actress in a commercial for chocolate, she is writhing in a pool of it, sexualizing the product. She's decided that selling her body to commerce is advantageous to a life of lawless chaos. There is a completely separate narrative in this film, but after a little research I discovered that the other narrative was only added because the main actress quit half way through filming due to a few more extreme scenes she found to be uncomfortable and offensive. For this reason I won't examine the other narrative, but I will note the irony of using an actress to portray the evils of using people. Obviously I defend any filmmaker's efforts to do so however because people need to experience extreme characterizations in order to understand the limits of human behavior.

Both films deal with extremes. They show us sensationalized examples of the influence of socioeconomics on human behavior and in doing so they burn unforgettable images into our minds which ultimately serve the purpose of reminding us to be aware of our surroundings, to remind us what civilization is, the structure of it, the evolution of it, the potential evils and the potential subjective fulfillment born of it. We are constant spectators of the ever-changing beast that is the spirit of the times and have the freedom to align ourselves with it or rebel against it. And I'd say if you're fascinated by that sort of reflection these films are worth the investment of time. If not keep a wide berth. These films will offend you.

Movie: The Face of Another

The Face of Another is a film based on the Japanese surrealist novel of the same title by Kobo Abe. I've read a few of Abe's novels, but not this particular one, giving me the opportunity to experience the story with fresh eyes. Of course I know Abe's style which often involves taking a character and thrusting them into the unknown, into situations so absurd that their world or their perception of the world is completely changed which ultimately transforms their identity. In this particular story the protagonist suffers an explosion which covers his face with grotesque scarring. In order to live without horrifying the people around him he resigns himself to wearing bandages around his face at all times.

As this man navigates the world he realizes that he has begun to embrace the identity of a man without a face. The people of the bustling city around him interact with him with only cursory gestures. They're not horrified or startled, merely curious and when their curiosity is sated they avert their eyes and carry on with their lives never connecting with him on any emotional level. As he starts to embrace his new life as a permanent outcast he falls into despair which manifests itself as anger, especially toward his wife. She still performs all of her wifely duties but a distance forms between them emotionally and physically.

As the man falls deeper and deeper into loneliness his doctor, who originally treated his injury, informs him of the possibility of a radical procedure which will affix a mask over his face concealing the scarring and allowing him to re-enter society. The doctor is overwhelmed with worry about this procedure because of the psychological implications. When a man has the ability to assume another identity what would stop him from losing all accountability? A man could do great evil under the guise of someone else and then rid himself of the mask and the resulting guilt. And assuming anyone had this power there would no longer be any trust. There's no telling who you'd be interacting with, who you'd be sharing your secrets with, who you'd be in love with.

The doctor reluctantly performs the procedure with one caveat. The man is to be under constant surveillance so that any extreme behavioral changes can be monitored preventing him from doing anything destructive. Of course the man agrees and of course he rebels against this surveillance the first moment he can. He wants to experience his new identity, experience its effect on people without prying eyes. He approaches old friends and is delighted by the fact that they treat him as an attractive stranger. Then he becomes consumed by the unresolved tension with his wife. He decides to attempt to seduce her as a demonstration of how easily she can be swayed away from his previous deformed identity. This is a shameless trap, it's a demonstration of narcissism, exactly what the doctor feared.

The man is successful in seducing his wife, but is surprised to find out that his wife knew all along that this new man was in fact her husband. She agreed to their secret rendezvous to punish him for trying to deceive her. The man is stricken with complex emotions, but at this point his sense of guilt has become polluted. Is he a new person? Or is he his old self turned rotten by the ability of adulterating his past? He takes to the streets in a state of embarrassed disorientation and attacks a pedestrian. The doctor comes to his aid rescuing him from the police telling them that he's an escaped mental patient.

This story is a thought experiment, a meditation on the limits of identity. It attempts to approach the subject in a novel way and I think the audience comes away knowing a little bit more about the fragility of our personalities. It's common for people to embrace their identity as static, to perceive it as their unchanging soul, but our identities are simply collections of our past. Subtle changes in our lives change who we are over time and radical changes have the potential to send us spiraling into the depths of insanity. Death is the only event that brings about the end of our constant transformation.

5/5

Movie: The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover

The path to discovery for this film was a frustrating one. After seeing an interview with Paul Giamatti for his role in the new Spiderman movie (of which I have no interest) I was curious to see if Paul was in any recent indie flicks I may have missed since he's got quite the reputation for doing projects with no hope of monetary gain. The film River of Fundament caught my eye immediately, a six hour epic directed by Matthew Barney. Mathew Barney... Barney... where have I heard that name before... In this age of technology the struggle for long buried memories doesn't last long and with a click I instantly recalled why the name struck me in such a way.

Barney is responsible for a massive, decade long film project known as the Cremaster Cycle. Now I want to stress my complete ignorance of the project and the resulting frustration very clearly. The Cremaster Cycle had only extremely limited screenings at extremely exclusive events and was never released to the public in any format, leaving me unable to watch it. As you can probably understand, for a person who has access to literally any film, again through the magic of technology and a frayed and rotted sense of moral fiber, encountering something so obscure, and by its reputation so symbolically dark and critical of mainstream culture, and not being able to view it, spun me into a minor rage. The rage was further stoked by the livid hate Barney has received in the IMDB forums. The mob will yell when their beliefs are questioned, the mob will shriek when they encounter something they don't readily understand, especially something regarded as high art to the paid critics. Any real fan of conceptual film will tell you, the more putrid the smell of derision, the more attractive the object of said derision becomes.

But since I'm denied the object, I have to settle for something close to it and luckily enough in one of those heated criticisms from the mob was the mention of Peter Greenaway, a comment along the lines of, "If you think Barney is impressive, Greenaway will make your eyes bleed with bliss." And with a cast including Helen Mirren, Michael Gambon, and Tim Roth, Greenaway's film, The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover was enough to divert my attention away from Barney for the time being.

The Cook is an exceedingly dark film from the very start and because of the obscenity in the first scene I'll save you from the description and just explain that its purpose is to establish the main character, the Thief, as the worst kind of narcissistic egomaniac. He's violent, impulsive, grotesque and overwhelmed with jealousy for anyone who even looks at his abused wife for a fleeting second. His wife, played by Helen Mirren is beautiful, graceful, with a sharp wit to occasionally put her husband in his place. From the title of the film you could probably guess that the wife takes a lover, a quiet, noble gentlemen who is only capable of the deepest admiration for her.

That's pretty much all you need to know about the plot. It's a classic, simple tale told millions of times before, sometimes more subtly, sometimes shrouded in more subtext, but you won't find a more brutal portrayal of the classic story. And you won't find a more stylized one either. This film is a work of visual art and the comparison to Barney is clear now. The film never escapes the walls of one small studio, but the studio is densely filled with the baroque styling one would expect of a multi-million dollar period piece. All visuals, even of the most grotesque variety are beautiful, intricately designed, and presented with thoughtful composition to the audience. I walked away from this film saddened by the blank white walls of my apartment, of the general spartan way of modern living those with a modest salary have to accept. The costumes were equally impressive having been designed by Jean Paul Gaultier. That might ring a bell for some people as he's the same designer responsible for the vivid, other-worldly costumes of The Fifth Element.

I shouldn't have left this for last, but since it's obvious that Helen Mirren isn't going to do anything less than act her proverbial pants off, I shouldn't have to mention it at all. And in all of film, there are few characters I hated more than Michael Gambon's portrayal of Albert. He was a monster, a real villain, and watching him wale and snarl was a rare pleasure.

Only recommended for those with a strong stomach, but for those lucky few, absolutely essential.

5/5

Movie: Babette's Feast

This was recommended by my mother and it took me far too long to get around to watching it. I had heard of Babette's Feast before, nothing more than quiet whispers on obscure film forums where people take their opinions far too seriously and declare vendetta's against the ignorant or the pretentious often falling victim to exactly those criticisms. We're all at times hypocrites, all a little too wrapped up in our own view of the world. The goal of objective observation is so often completely out of our reach. And this is exactly the message the film so articulately expresses.

We're introduced to the lead characters in their later years, icons of charity in their small village. They take it upon themselves to feed the weak and the poor, to keep the dying from dying alone. The film develops their characters by exploring their young adulthood, daughters of a strict priest, forever penitent, forever obedient. The father is portrayed as flawless in his faith, a pillar of the community, a visionary preacher, but he makes no secret the disdain he has for the upper class, for vanity, fame, beauty, and bliss. This is most clear in the way he reacts to the introduction of two suitors, one a soldier destined for conquest, the other an opera singer destined for fame, who try their best to romance the two sisters. The first fails because he realizes the impossibility of taking the daughter with him on his journey through life. The second fails when the object of his affection realizes his intentions of love. Both daughters are obviously terrified of love, terrified of passion, obedient to the values carried down from their father's supreme modesty. The suitors go on to live lavish lives of fame and conquest and the daughters go on with a life of righteousness.

And then we're introduced to Babette, a former chef from Paris who is forced to flee during a revolution, a close acquaintance of one of the suitors. She embraces the small village's way of life unflinchingly as she's taught simple dishes consisting of fish and bread soup. Things seem to be going very well for the sisters and their new cook until subtle rumblings of discontent form in the community, accusations of exploitation, of swindling, all handled passive aggressively and allowed to escalate. The sisters have no idea how to resolve this building tension but do their best by reverting to the teachings of their late father.

Then without any warning, Babette wins a lottery worth 10,000 francs. Now to you, or me, or anyone else this would obviously be a stroke of luck, something joyous and worth celebrating, but this event turns out to be the major conflict of the film. Babette decides to use the money for a lavish French dinner for the small village to celebrate the 100 year anniversary of the priest's birth. Leading up to the dinner, the community is absolutely terrified. Stricken with nightmares, the modest people pray fervently to avoid what will surely turn out to be a disaster. They've lived their entire lives on fish and bread soup, of course they're going to be fearful of a dinner consisting of strange, foreign animals, of decadent wines, of flavors and sensations they would never have dreamed of. The townspeople eventually decide to ignore the particulars of the meal, to shield themselves from the evil of decadence, to participate passively and pray for forgiveness afterward.

One of the suitors, now a decorated general, is invited to the dinner and he expresses on his journey that he's going to use the time to reflect on whether or not he made the right choice to devote his life to fame and success when he could have just as easily lived as a modest farmer or fisherman with one of the daughters. At the time he seems overwhelmed with uneasiness as anyone would be when asked the question, "Are you sure you lived your life correctly?"

As the meal begins, the townspeople seem uncomfortable, not sure how exactly to proceed, but they keep a watchful eye on the general, mimicking his approach to consuming the relatively complex dishes. As time goes by, as more alcohol is consumed, the townspeople start to let their guards down. The tension that would have eventually led the village toward destruction eases with each subsequent dish.

By witnessing the stark contrast between the initial hesitation of his hosts and his own worldliness, and the gradual evolution toward simple brotherly enjoyment in life, the general has an epiphany. He addresses the table and suggests that there is ultimately no difference between a life of fame and a life of righteousness. We are simply actors as time moves forward. The choices we make in life are the choices we were meant to make. We can choose to regret our past decisions and that is itself a perfectly valid action, but when you set that option against just enjoying the passing days, finding a passion and succeeding at it, sitting down to good food and drink when you can, why would you waste your time with regret?

Everyone is in exactly the right place and the decisions made are exactly correct.

At the end of dinner as the general is saying goodbye to the woman he loved but never got the chance to be with, he says though they could never be together physically, they would always be together in spirit. In saying this, the general makes it clear that the natural world sets no limit on the potential for love or on any emotion or sensation for that matter. Our life may take us down a particular path, but a sense of universality is always there to keep us from feeling lost or alone. This, I think, is a profoundly deep observation and this film approaches it beautifully. Babette's Feast deserves its reputation in the annals of film.

5/5

Beer: Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout

Do forgive the slightly blurry photo, I must be particularly shaky tonight.

Appearance: Deep black, no light penetration anywhere in the glass. I over-poured a bit expecting this brew to be substantially more viscous like other Imperial Stouts I've tried. A thick light brown head formed as the beer settled, fluffy with lots of big bubbles. As the head dissipated the color gradually became darker near the edges of the glass and remained light brown in the center. Moderate lacing as the level descends.

Aroma: Obvious even during the pour, lots of rich smoke, caramelized dark fruit, a certain freshness is present, maybe a very subtle mint hiding.

Taste: The smoke stands as a backdrop to mint, now more obvious, which evolves darker and darker into caramelized fruit, black cherry, darker still toward cocoa bitterness.

Mouthfeel: At 9% abv, the caramelized fruit into a dark, bitter char flavor progression is really impressive for a relatively light presence on the palate. This is very drinkable, I'd say dangerously so. The slight freshness seems to clear away any lingering syrupy presence.

Overall: I can understand why this is so highly regarded as an archetype of the Russian Imperial Stout varietal. So much flavor and complexity is pulled off without being overbearing or inaccessible.

5/5

Movie: Nymphomaniac by Lars von Trier

To say this movie feels like home would be to expose a side of my identity that I try very hard to keep to myself, but for the sake of this review that's what I'd like to say. Nymphomaniac fits neatly into the genre of extreme film, a genre I'm not sure even exists in the eyes of the average movie-goer. To qualify as extreme a film has to test the boundaries of social acceptability and it can do this in several ways. The film can be extremely violent or extremely sexual or extremely disturbing, the bottom line being that it has to shock you, has to desensitize you in some way. I've always been interested in counter-culture, sub-culture, artistic expressions of rebellion, so it was natural for me to get into this darker side of film.

Early on in my exploration of extreme film I happened upon Lars von Trier's The Idiots. It was earth-shattering for me at the time. Not only was it shocking in its subject matter but the way it was shot was a testament to counter-culture, the mainstream film culture being dominated by Hollywood's focus on post-production polish. The Idiots was filmed according to a strict set of rules known as the Dogme 95 Manifesto. These rules included only on-scene shooting with no props or artificial sets, only hand-held camera work, no added music or sound effects, no special lighting other than what is in the natural shooting environment, etc. Even the subject matter was restricted to prevent any instances of superficial action, i.e. unrealistic car chases or gun battles. After seeing The Idiots I tracked down every Lars von Trier film I could find and kept close attention to his future plans.

When I heard news that he was embarking on a two part project called Nymphomaniac I knew it was going to be something special. Von Trier has always woven sexuality into his work and it was obvious that it was a subject he enjoyed exploring. This would be the unlimited expansion of that theme, a study of human sexuality, the ugly and the beautiful, the domination and submission, the strength and fragility of physical relationships.

The film begins when an unwitting man finds a woman unconscious in a dark alley obviously the victim of physical violence. He asks if she needs an ambulance and she insists that she doesn't. The man takes her to his apartment and as he helps her into the bed of a spare room to convalesce she embarks on the telling of her life story as a nymphomaniac with the ultimate purpose of explaining why she was beaten and left for dead.

This is a perfect setup for such a subject, especially considering the man is a self-proclaimed asexual. As she describes her life of pure sexual addiction the man listens patiently, offering non-sexual analogies to give her descriptions a sort of universal context. There are moments of cold reflection, unflinching and fearless, moments of human frailty, delicately emotional. But most importantly, the film avoids being sensational, it is shocking without attempting to be shocking. The focus is on a real human's experiences in life and never does it feel artificial.

The film isn't perfect though and I've narrowed my criticism down to one issue. Lars von Trier's casting choices are usually non-american actors, being a non-american filmmaker. For this film he made two strange choices, Christian Slater and Shia Labeouf. Both of them Hollywood veterans and both of them ultimately disappointing. They attempt English accents and wind up sounding awkward delivering Von Trier's thoughtful dialog. This isn't a deal breaker though because everyone else, especially the two leads, Charlotte Gainsbourg and Stellan Skarsgard, put on performances of a lifetime.

I know most people will avoid this film, ignore it, dismiss it as smut or perversion, but I can't stress how badly we need films like this in a society of post-Victorian prudes, of post-Catholic abstinence advocates. Sex isn't scary. It is literally the reason we're all here. Sexuality can be strange and awkward, dirty and smelly, but life is often all of those things and it's a choice to not appreciate that. We can choose to explore ourselves and explore each other very intimately and learn from the experience, making our lives fuller, giving us a better understanding of what life is. Or we can keep blindly wandering down the road we're currently on, judging, pointing and sneering, taking the easy, pretty way, where only a very small number of close-minded people will ever find happiness at the expense of the rest of us.

5/5

Best of 2013

1) Queens of the Stone Age - ...Like Clockwork

“Everyone it seems, has somewhere to go

And the faster the world spins, the shorter the lights will glow

And I'm swimming in the night, chasing down the moon

The deeper in the waters the more I long for you”

Those are the words sung during the final track on ...Like Clockwork, and that is just one example of the poetic clarity, the reflective emotion on this album. It's as if Josh Homme had the zeitgeist whispering into his ear during the entire writing process. The lyrics are so meaningful, so heart-felt, and yet poetically symbolic enough to be applicable on a grand scale. This album is unlike anything The Queens have written before, so I can't stress enough the importance of separating ...Like Clockwork from their back catalog.

I have always been a fan of Queens of The Stone Age though, and for good reason. They write catchy desert rock songs. Josh Homme will never forget the roots he planted with rock legends Kyuss and he'll keep writing tasty hooks long into the future. I just can't expect him to come up with this level of profound song-writing ever again. This is like Siamese Dream era Smashing Pumpkins good, like Ten era Pearl Jam, like Facelift era Alice in Chains. That level of song-writing, that level of timelessness can't be sustained for long, and though I don't expect it, I will express the quietest whisper of hope for their next release because if they've done it once, it's possible they could do it again.

Best of 2013

2) Altar of Plagues - Teethed Glory and Injury

This album, unlike Subrosa, I'll forgive you for not listening to. I chose Altar of Plagues as my number two spot because it takes the genre of Black Metal and brings it somewhere it was never meant to go. Black metal was originally a demonstration of raw hatred, usually satanic, almost always poorly produced and simplistic. It was a movement of music that seemed to say “We hate you so much we refuse to care about learning instruments or making them sound at all pleasing.” I love a few of those old albums because they were something new, an original movement of music, but if black metal were to stagnate at that primitive beginning I certainly wouldn't have paid any attention going forward. Over the years a few bands have managed to give something fresh to that harsh rawness, that monotony, bands labeled as “progressive black metal.”

Altar of Plagues is one of those bands and I've been watching them closely for a while now. But, nothing could have prepared me for their latest record. Teethed Glory and Injury does something I've never heard in black metal before and that is largely the heavy presence of post-processing. By that I mean folding in sounds and textures that can't be produced by traditional instruments. By starting with the most primitive of musical styles and opening it to sampling, to frequency shifts, to endless filters and waveform shaping effects, they effectively demolished any boundary that may have remained in the genre of black metal. I was filled with sadness when earlier this year Altar of Plagues announced that this would be their final album, but I'm at the same time filled with hope for the profound influence Teethed Glory and Injury might have on the genre of black metal, on music in general.

Best of 2013

3) Subrosa – More Constant Than the Gods

I'm having a hard time coming up with a description for this one. Sure, it's droney, it's sludgey, it's stonery, but what does that mean? Those words are meaningless to a person who's never heard a drone album, or a sludge album, or a stoner album, and it would be too easy to dismiss this record if I used one of those terms because it might mean this is too weird for the average person to enjoy. I don't want that to be the case here because I would want everyone to listen to this album, from the gentle profession of love as an introduction, to the personal stories of faith and struggle and perseverance, to the haunting violin solos, right up to the ethereal hammered dulcimer guided conclusion.

Some music transcends genre. You can't call More Constant Than the Gods anything but amazing music because pigeon-holing it would diminish its value, its potential to the virgin audience. Regardless of what it is, this album deserves more attention. I want to hear Cosey Mo on the radio. I want to see this in a jukebox and when I pay for it I want the regulars to appreciate it. I know none of that's going to happen, but just do me a favor and try this out. Listen to a track, pull up the lyrics if you can't follow along, ask me for them if you can't find them anywhere. Just listen and try to relate because the message is timeless, the music is worth your attention.

Best of 2013

4) Gorguts – Colored Sands

More death metal?! How boring... But, I would venture to say calling Gorguts death metal is like calling Led Zeppelin rock. Gorguts is very much a death metal band, but every record they released was an example of innovation. Gorguts changed the way many people viewed death metal, as less primitive bludgeoning and more cerebral, more developed. Gorguts introduced a learning curve to death metal. It is impossible to “get” their '98 release, Obscura, upon first spin because there is simply nothing else like it. But, with time the absurdly discordant atmosphere, the mercurial changes in tempo, the desperate vocals all begin to feel familiar. When it was released, Obscura loosened the term of death metal and gave a visionary example of how limitless music can be.

Gorguts broke up in '05 and silence overcame us until earlier this year when news came that the founding member, Luc Lemay, was reforming the band by borrowing musicians from a few progressive acts with plans of releasing the first full-length under the Gorguts name in 12 years, Colored Sands. Now, given the lengthy hiatus and the lack of the rest of the original line-up, I kept my hope in check until I was able to spin this. And with that first spin I knew this wasn't going to be Obscura 2.0. This was going to be its own beast, another album it would take time to “get.” And after a few months of spins, I think I got it. Where Obscura was shocking and chaotic, Colored Sands is more patient and burdensome. The album feels like molten lead brought to a slow simmer with dissonant soloing and desperate screams occasionally escaping like vapor from the surface. This is an oppressively dark album, and I know very well a description like that isn't going to be terribly attractive to the casual music fan. But I can say with confidence, when future generations happen upon death metal with a pure sense of curiosity, Gorguts is going to be one of the bands they choose to study, Colored Sands one of the albums.