Blog — Page 256 of 282

MONO

Newtown Social Club

Sydney, AUS

December 7, 2015

"Mesmerizing" and "cinematic" are the adjectives that come to mind when one is asked to describe the epic, vast instrumental landscapes MONO from Japan weaves.

Drawn out crescendos, cascading and repeating, slowly building up until a shrill and thunderous wave of distortion drowns you in an ocean of noise. Phil Spector would have hit the wall.

Oh, My Bloody, shoegazing Valentine!

The upper register of the Glockenspiel, which is an integral part of MONO's instrumentation rather than an ornament, is omnipresent and its chimes add an ethereal quality to the performance, which is enhanced by the intimate setting of the Newtown Social Club.

A MONO show is not a fun show in the traditional sense: The protagonists completely lost in the music, trying to communicate the incommunicable, do not acknowledge the audience and a seated venue would suit them better than a rock'n' roll cave.

Light and its dynamics could play an important role yet the show is devoid of visual stimuli.

The element of MONOtony is prevalent throughout the show as almost every song starts and ends in the same place.

A majestic instrumental band.

The Ghost Inside “Locals Only”

Altar Bar

Pittsburgh, PA

November 6, 2015

Los Angeles-based melodic hardcore band The Ghost Inside dropped their latest album, ‘Dear Youth,’ last year on Epitaph Records. After relentlessly touring to support the new record, the band decided to mix things up this time around by announcing the “Locals Only” Tour. Rather than compiling an all-star lineup to guarantee packed venues and steady income, The Ghost Inside took the risk to allow each city to supply their own local opening acts as an ode to the scenes that have supported the band over the years. On November 6, 2015, the tour stopped in Pittsburgh, PA and I has the opportunity to attend.

I love hardcore. I grew up on bands like Shutdown, Snapcase and Ensign, so I’m kind of tough on newer hardcore bands, like all old guys should be. I’m not alone. After all, the hardcore scene did take a turn for the worse somewhere around 2009, prompting even die hard, living legend Toby Morse to ask, “What Happened to the Passion?” Unlike other bands of hardcore modern-era, The Ghost Inside definitely has the passion.

The band hit the stage swinging with “Move Me”, and the crowd erupted into stage dives as if it were rehearsed. There were no frills, no light shows, and no security up front – typical unfortunate findings in hardcore modern-era. The fans of the band were amazingly loyal, seemingly knowing all of the lyrics to even early records, something I sheepishly admit was not the case for me. The sincerity was truly inspiring.

The Ghost Inside blasted through tracks like “The Great Unknown” and “Sacrifice” with little to no front-man commentator interruption. Unbeknownst to me, this LA hardcore outfit had significant ties to Pittsburgh, even mentioning they recently filmed a video at Altar Bar. The connection was obvious, as the energy from the crowd and band alike never wavered throughout the entire set.

The sincerity paid off, as the band extended their set three extra songs. Not a planned, Axl Rose-esque encore, a sincere ‘thank you’ to the crowd (I’m holding the set list as I write this.) The Ghost Inside ended their set with the incredible sing-along “Engine 45”, and literally half of the crowd joined the band on stage to close out the set. This was a hardcore show, and I left inspired. Good on you, The Ghost Inside. Thank you.

Though usually panned by the majority of film critics – the mainstream ones anyway- horror films seem to be a Hollywood mainstay that just won't go away. This is hardly shocking – if there's one genre of film in which a low budget doesn't seem to be that much of a hindrance, and may actually help a film's chances, this is it. Many of the industry's biggest names got their start in horror – Steven Spielberg, Tom Hanks, Jack Nicholson to name but a few – and whole legions of stars were known primarily for their work in films designed to frighten and shock audiences.

The genre has changed substantially over the years, moving through phases where most of the “action” was implied or occurred offscreen, to periods where psychological issues were the focus. Since the 1960s, special effects have not only become an integral part of the typical horror film, but have actually served as a sort of litmus test for genre fans who wanted to see ever more gory and disturbing visuals in these pictures. It's largely the element of one-upmanship that has led to today's (flourishing) “torture porn” subgenre, but the films seem to have suffered as a whole in the process. Horror films are now more reliant on horrific special effects than on any notion of story development or acting chops.

What some people don't realize is that the horror picture has been a part of the bigger history of cinema essentially since day one: Georges Méliès (most famous for A Trip to the Moon) is credited with making the first such picture in 1896. By the 1920s, German filmmakers like F.W. Murnau (Nosferatu) and Robert Wiene (The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) had established the visual palette used later in America for films like the original Frankenstein and Dracula films. Soundtracks in film at this time were exclusively orchestral – performed live during screenings for most silent pictures – and even the classic Universal horror films (the aforementioned Frankenstein and Dracula, as well as scores of related films and things like The Wolf Man and The Mummy) used music that was more flowing and unobtrusive than what would come to be the norm later.

Arguably, it was Alfred Hitchcock's 1960 Psycho that took the horror genre into the modern age: here was a film that was not only almost intolerably violent for its time, but also introduced very unsavory story material into the mix (fun fact: it the first film to GASP! show a toilet onscreen). Incalculable films have followed suit in the years since, but Bernard Herrmann's intense, jarring music score for the film has to be considered among the reasons the film worked as well as it did.

Sound design is probably one of the most under-appreciated aspects of the typical horror film, and music certainly figures into that design prominently. Though Psycho's piercing strings and Jaws's nerve-rattling two-tone bass are probably the best known horror movie soundtrack cues, having entered the popular consciousness on a level that few pieces of music have, numerous other films have effectively used music to heighten their sinister intentions. Here's are some of some of my favorites:

Extreme warning! Several of the trailers linked in this article are disturbing and very NSFW.

Carnival of Souls (1962) -Made for almost no money by a cast and crew of unknowns, this ghost story's surreal, unsettling atmosphere is complimented by Gene Moore's supremely creepy organ music.

Night of the Living Dead (1968) – The original modern zombie picture. Kind of amazing that director George Romero could find library music that precisely captures the sense of dread and doom in the film.

The Mutations (1974) – A gorgeously-photographed (and downright strange) British-made hybrid sci-fi/horror film about a scientist trying to interbreed plants with people. Contains perhaps one of the wildest soundtracks to ever feature in a genre film, created by experimental musician Basil Kirchin.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) – A film more horrific for what it doesn't show than what it does. A creaky, almost industrial soundtrack by director Tobe Hooper only cements the distressing mood.

Eraserhead (1977) – The nightmares of a young married man come to life in this utterly unique cult classic. Dark ambient soundtrack ranges from grating industrial noise to the innocent yet worrisome old-time pop song “In Heaven.”

Suspiria (1977) – Hallucinogenic tale about a coven of witches running a dance academy in Germany. A tough choice to pick Goblin's best horror soundtrack, but this one gets my vote...

Dawn of the Dead (1978) - ...yet I can't make a list of this nature without including this one. Second in Romero's Living Dead saga, with an unbeatable combination of pounding Goblin compositions and comical, frequently bizarre stock music selections.

Halloween (1978) – The defining moment of John Carpenter's career, the film that set the ground rules for American-made '80s horror, and one of the best horror themes ever laid down.

Zombie Flesh Eaters (1979) – Incredibly bleak Italian-made zombie ripoff that may just one up the Romero films in terms of outrageous violence. Fabio Frizzi's music is one of the best, most influential synth scores of its day.

Cannibal Holocaust (1980) – The infamous “found footage” film that goes way beyond anything made since. Composer Riz Ortolani has a tendency to use the most pleasant, gorgeously orchestrated themes right when something truly horrible is onscreen – which only makes the film more shocking.

The Shining (1980) – The opening scene of this film is more genuinely ominous than whole films made today despite the fact that it's made up of nothing more than landscape photography and music by Wendy Carlos and Rachel Elkind. The music selections actually get even more distressing from there.

The Thing (1982) – For my money, the greatest film composer to have ever lived, Ennio Morricone made hundreds of movies better solely because of his participation in them. Every one of his scores is fascinating in its own way, but this is my favorite of his work. The main title gives me goosebumps every time.

Razorback (1984) – Universally hailed as a Jaws ripoff, this super-stylish Australian film is actually most frightening for to its deranged outback characters, not the giant, man-eating boar it centers around. Iva Davies's music, made with then-state-of-the-art synthesizer tech, is definitively haunting and moody to the extreme.

Certainly, there are many other outstanding horror soundtracks out there. Any number of obscure movies have soundtracks that are fun or effective in their own way, and individual moments of genius occur in many genre films. Though I prefer the stomping, disco-funk main title of Part III to anything in the original, 1980 Friday the 13th, Harry Manfredini's famous “ch-ch-ch-ha-ha-ha” has to be acknowledged for what it is - brilliant. Other inspired uses of music include the end title theme from 1983's Sleepaway Camp, a film that boasts one of the most jaw-dropping endings in horror movie history, the positively sublime, piano-based “love theme” from Nekromantik, and the use of Iron Butterfly's “In-A-Godda-Da-Vida” in the wild 1986 film Manhunter, the first to include the character of Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lector. Considering the creative bankruptcy that has strangled the horror genre in recent decades (how many sequels, remakes, and retreads can Hollywood produce?), I suppose it's no surprise that most modern horror films don't quite measure up to the best the genre has offered in terms of soundtrack music. With any luck, a new breed of filmmakers – and musicians - will eventually breathe new life into the genre, one that seems unwilling to simply fade into the ether.

Made in 1957, director Roger Corman's typically efficient low-budget sci-fi flick Not of This Earth came to be regarded as a minor genre classic in the years to come – and mostly for good reason. Dealing with an alien who's come to Earth to evaluate whether human blood can save his dying species, the film boasted special effects that ranged from impressive (faces and bodies disappearing in a device similar to Star Trek's famous transporters) to not-so-hot (a flying monster that looks suspiciously like an elaborately adorned dust cover), but packed precisely the sort of material drive-in audiences of the time would have wanted to see into a slim and trim 67 minutes. It's also instantly apparent that, from its opening scene where a couple necking in a parked car chatter back and forth with as much “hip” dialogue as could be crammed into thirty seconds to a fiery climax and wonderfully ambiguous conclusion, Not of This Earth is nothing less than prime Mystery Science Theater 3000 type material.

Thirty years after the release of the original film, Corman (by then an incredibly prolific film producer) accepted a bet from director Jim Wynorski (perhaps best known for 1986's Chopping Mall) that a remake could be made for the same amount of money, inflation being considered. The resulting film (completed in just twelve days) hit theaters in mid 1988 with a thud, but grew a reputation mostly due to the fact that it was quintessential video store fare.

Wynorski's remake closely mirrors the action of Corman's original, again revolving around a mysterious, sunglasses-clad man (identified simply as “Mr. Johnson” and played by an admirably stoic Arthur Roberts) who waltzes into a clinic demanding an immediate blood transfusion. After forcing his will on the doctor with some sort of mind control, Johnson insists that one of the nurses on staff takes up a position as his permanent medical adviser, moving into his rather extravagant estate across town. As it turns out, young nurse Nadine Story (ex-underage-porn actress Traci Lords, in her first mainstream gig) settles into her new position nicely, but quickly becomes aware of the fact that something's not quite right about her all-too-generous new employer. Johnson's caretaker Jeremy (an enjoyably sleazy role for Lenny Juliano) informs Nadine that people enter the house but never leave, and Johnson also refuses food, instead seeming to get nourishment from a sort of supplement he adds to water. Eventually, it's up to Nadine and motorcycle cop Harry (portrayed by a hammy Roger Lodge) to uncover the truth before Johnson gets to enact “phase VI” of his nefarious plan – which involves the harvesting of the human race.

Consistent with a film that was thrown together with this much haste, Wynorski's film is capably made but largely unremarkable from a technical standpoint. Cinematographer Zoran Hochstätter merely seems to be getting the job done, the hectic production schedule not affording him any time to craft something truly special with regard to the various shots in the film. I also should point out that there are numerous errors visible in the final production – no less than twice, one can easily see the reflection of the film crew in the polished finish of Johnson's Cadillac. Viewers familiar with previous Roger Corman productions will also notice several instances where stock footage is used in Not of This Earth: the credits sequence is made up entirely of special effects shots pulled from other films (including the infamous tentacle rape from 1981's Galaxy of Terror), and fright scenes taken from Hollywood Boulevard and Humanoids From the Deep are also utilized.

Without doubt, this recycling adds to the campiness of this tongue-in-cheek production. There are numerous in-jokes for the attentive viewer to enjoy, and Lords in particular seems to be having a good time playing up the inherent goofiness of the story. Special effects in the film are obviously dated but fun in a nostalgic sort of way - I especially liked Johnson's “burned in” eye effects – and rather abundant nudity only adds to the film's B-movie appeal. Considering Lords's previous occupation, it's not surprising that she not only parades around in very revealing costumes, but also drops trou on two occasions (and, it must be said, looks great naked). Wynorski, who's makes his living these days with Skinamax-type movies which play late-night on the pay channels, doesn't stop there however, throwing in various other completely gratuitous nude scenes for the sole purpose of appealing to the youthful, predominantly male audience that a film of this nature would have.

Honestly, Not of This Earth is unexceptional in most every regard but remains entirely watchable – and maybe even quietly enjoyable - throughout. Some credit for that must be directed towards composer Chuck Cirino, who was responsible for the film's soundtrack. Cirino's music packs the energy that the film itself often lacks, making various sequences which would otherwise have seemed bland and forgettable genuinely exciting or at least tolerable. I don't think anyone is going to confuse Cirino's vintage electronic soundscapes with the sweeping, orchestral compositions one would expect during masterpiece theater, but his music works perfectly in context, adding significantly to one's enjoyment of the film. At the end of the day, the 1988 Not of This Earth remake (the story would, inexplicably, be remade again in 1995) plays as a prime example of '80s genre cinema, the sort of film that video stores were made for. It's hardly something that would positively need to be seen, but I could think of worse ways to spend eighty minutes. Best enjoyed with some friends and some adult refreshments.

Blood & Guts = 4/10

Smack Talk = 2/10

Fap Factor = 8/10

Cult Appeal = 6/10

The More You Know =  “I was jacking you before. Now I'm just telling you something.”

In the midst of the opening credits sequence for Italian director Dario Argento's 1975 Profondo Rosso (a.k.a. Deep Red), the viewer is treated to a truncated scene appearing to show two figures in shadow in front of a Christmas tree. One pulls a knife and appears to stab the other, the bloody instrument then dropping to the floor where it's approached by shoes of a child. This sequence establishes much of the framework for the rest of the picture: a mystery centered around an English-born jazz pianist named Marcus Daly (played by David Hemmings, best known for 1966's Blow-Up, a picture somewhat similar to this one) who witnesses the violent murder of a clairvoyant woman in his apartment building. While attempting to put the pieces together to solve the murder along with a plucky reporter (Daria Nicolodi in a role that's largely an annoyance), Marc stumbles upon a legend about a haunted house, and after locating the building and digging around its decrepit interior, finds a drawing that seems to represent the Christmas-time murder depicted at the beginning of the film. This all leads to the expected showdown with the murderer, but the guilty party may not be the one the viewer was expecting.

Sometimes titled as The Hatchet Murders in its English-language prints since its killer occasionally uses a heavy butcher's cleaver as a murder instrument, Profondo Rosso clearly displays a mesmerizing, idiosyncratic visual style that would be utilized to perfection in Argento's later, undisputed classic Suspiria. Puzzling montages appear intermittently to provide a glimpse into the mindset of the killer, and the actual stalking/murder sequences are jarring and considerably violent (remember – this film was made before the explosion of slasher films in the early '80s). Clairvoyant Helga Ulmann's murder features several brief but graphic special effects shots of a cleaver being sunk into soft human flesh, and a later murder sequence features a man's face being bashed off the woodwork around a fireplace before a close-up of his teeth slamming into the pointed edge of a table. The final minutes also feature a gloriously grotesque death scene involving an elevator, but the film's best moment isn't so much disgusting as plain creepy. After being startled by noise while on the phone in his study, a man is rushed by a flailing robot designed to look like a smiling young boy. Forget the fact that it's illogical – this is about as unexpected a situation as could be imaginable, and definitely the film's most genuinely unforgettable moment.

Aside from providing unique vantage points throughout the film (the extreme high-angle views of a mysterious figure rushing through an abandoned town square after dark are especially good), Argento's camera frequently seems to “know” more than the characters or audience does, focusing on seemingly inconsequential detail that will shortly be of the utmost importance. Easily the best example of this occurs in a scene where Daly hurries through the Helga's apartment in an attempt to save her from her murderer. As he hastens down a hallway, the viewer's eye is drawn to a series of paintings, one of which looks substantially more life-like and bizarre than the others. Showing a groups of faces, only one of which truly appears to be human, the painting lingers in the viewer's mind even though its only seen onscreen for a second or so. Ultimately, solving the mystery comes down to this fleeting image – Daly's convinced it reveals the murderer's face.

Along with the tantalizing visual clues, Profondo Rosso also offers up a series of strange plot twists and turns. Indisputably, the painting being a key element in solving the mystery is the script's most masterful idea, but I also rather liked the moment when, while combing through the supposedly haunted house, Daly spies a drawing covered up by drywall and proceeds to chip away at it, slowly revealing the picture. That being said, the script by Argento and Bernardino Zapponi seems overlong: running 126 minutes in its uncut version, the picture has noticeably sluggish pace to it, with distracting moments of comic relief and romance interrupting the unfolding mystery. It's not at all surprising that some 22 minutes were hacked from the original Italian version of the film when it was imported to the US.

Profondo Rosso's almost dream-like atmosphere is complimented by truly magnificent sound design. Squeaking shoes, the ringing of phones, blustery wind, cackling birds, wailing childrens voices, and more figure into the ambient soundscape of various key scenes, and it's typically these background sounds that create the dark and unsettling mood which hangs over the film. Especially nifty are a few moments in which Daly attempts to talk on a phone – it seems the man can't get a word out without being interrupted by racket of every sort.

Also worth mentioning is the film's soundtrack. Originally, composer Giorgio Gaslini was attached to the picture, but a disagreement with Argento led to progressive rock band The Cherry Five being brought in to record the music. The band permanently changed their name to Goblin around this time and the rest is history: Goblin went on to provide extremely memorable scores for numerous horror and action-oriented films, and Profondo Rosso became one of the best-selling horror movie soundtracks of all time. The music here ranges from typical '70s progressive rock to more spooky cues. I think the main title is probably the best track – when the rhythm kicks in, the viewer knows something bad is about to happen...

All in all, Profondo Rosso is a worthwhile flick and a prototypical giallo that stands as one of the best of the genre. Still, it's overlong in my opinion, and isn't nearly as much fun as either Argento's best (the very spooky, if somewhat incomprehensible, Suspiria) or my favorite giallos (among which would be Umberto Lenzi's Seven Blood-Stained Orchids and Spasmo, the proto-slashers Bay of Blood and Torso, and the super-sleazy 1972 Delirium). Fans of Argento's work or Italian genre cinema should absolutely check this film out though: its combination of mystery elements with graphic horror violence helped solidify the path that many subsequent horror films (Halloween and Friday the 13^th among them) would follow.

Blood & Guts = 7/10

Smack Talk = 1/10

Fap Factor = 1/10

Cult Appeal = 6/10

The More You Know = “But... I'm just trying to understand, because... You know, sometimes what you actually see and what you imagine... get mixed up in your memory like a cocktail... from which you can no longer distinguish one flavor from another.”