Thursday, July 13, 2006
Black Holes & Revelations

The Americans just don't get it.

Muse is a band that draws sharply divided critiques, depending on which side of the Atlantic they originate from. An apposite example would be its latest LP Black Holes and Revelations. Most critics from the British Isles lauded it as an ambitious, grandiose piece of work that explored new soundscape horizons. The Yanks just remarked it to be pompous and perposterous. Who is right? I admit that one hardly aid one's own cause when one of your songs is ludicrously named Knights of Cydonia, but having said that, there is plenty to like in an effort that is, patently, Muse's most accessible to date.

Muse has always come across like The Bends meets Bohemian Rhapsody. A band that, somehow, decided OK Computer wasn't epic enough and so decided to go totally daft on synthesised orchestrations, keyboard flourishes and ear-splitting Metallica arpeggios. From its debut Showbiz to its last album Absolution (which finally broke America), Muse has never strayed from this modus operandi. Indeed, its sound has only gotten progressively tighter, more epic and arguably more over-the-top. It was something you either bought wholeheartedly or just despise. For me, the same old approach was approaching its sell-by date and beginning to sound rehashed to death. It was with much trepidation then, that I approached their latest.

The opener, Take A Bow, started (relatively) understated enough. Full of swirling keyboards and syntheised beats, with nary a guitar in sight, Matt Bellamy proceeded to mumble (rather than to typically screech) his indecipherable lyrics through a meat grinder. "Hmmm, something new, this could be promising...", I told myself. And then, of course, a wall of epic guitars comes crashing into the picture and it's "Same old, same old" then. A leopard just couldn't change its spots, could it? Maybe. Maybe not.

So I was rather surprised by the next track Starlight. Opening with the sound of grinding guitars, the delicate sounds of a piano then breaks the monotony and adds a pop touch that's almost brave, considering the source. It's Keane with guitar bite. It's pop. But most importantly, it's different.

Starlight is followed by the album's first single, the surprisely sexed-up Supermassive Black Hole, where crunching funk is met by Bellamy's Prince-impersonating falsettos. It's a form that Muse has never allowed its musical beast to take shape in and it's quite refreshing. Map of the Problematique continues in the vein of experimentation, sounding like a twisted Depeche Mode, only that David Gahan's masculine baritone is replaced by Bellmay's sinewy shrieks. And the sound is still even more densely layered than Depeche Mode would usually have it. It's still typical Muse overblown work but hey, it marks an offbeat approach.

After the strong opening, it is almost inevitable that the middle might seem to sag in comparison. Soldier's Poem, despite having its heart in the right place, sounds like a filler. Invincible is Muse-by-numbers. And then Assassin comes crashing in.

Assassin opens with (overly) aggressive guitar licks that left me groaning, "So they don't change, do they?" Well, they don't. But Assassin does have a chorus to die for. It's the closest they have come to (besides Exo-Politics) in replicating the formative baby-steps sound of their debut. And it's pretty good. One really does have to look at the fact that only two songs might sound like they have come from their debut that this band has progressed.

I have to disagree with critics who said that the album ends on a strong note. City of Delusion, despite surprising me with acoustic guitars, sounded like a typical Muse track by its end. Hoodoo is not worth mentioning and while Knights of Cydonia had many a critic proclaiming it to be Muse at their imperious best, to me it is simply an impervious mess. Forging a musical equivalent of a fantasy novel by creating a soundscape replete with galloping horses and what-have-yous might sound great on paper but on execution, it's just plain daft. This might explain why I'm not a Rush fan.

Muse is a band you either like or hate. It's rarely just an "ok". But Black Holes and Revelations sees the band creating a relatively more palatable sound that might reach and grab a larger audience for its music. Although the move has alienated some of its core listeners (these are the same people who would call Starlight and Supermassive Black Hole unpleasant sell-outs and adore Assassin to death), it is a sound strategic move that has also seen the band produce its strongest work yet.

Now, as to the question why American critics still do not dig Muse. I can only offer this theory. For too long, the Americans seem to mostly value truth, honesty and sincerity in their music. Which must be why they seem to more eagerly embrace earnest singer-songwriter types/bands and punk bands. This is also the main reason why American audiences usually seem to reject the more arch Brit bands such as Blur and Pulp in the past (Is Franz Ferdinand liked more by the Yanks for their infectious post-punk dance disco or their supreme archness?).

When it comes to Brit bands that sing about ridiculous stuff like aliens and flying saucers, the Americans simply scratch their heads and go "duh?!". Music does not always have to be rooted in reality. OTT imagination/theories can be as potent a muse as everyday occurrences/stories, and just as good.

But hey, the Americans just don't get it.

8/10

Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Chef Cyclops

...buy a Viet wife to do the cooking for him. Thank God!!!

Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Real McCoy

Jens Lehmann...at least the name he goes by on the pitch...is really...

Knight Rider...phoah...easy on the breast feeding, Jens...David...Jens David...

The Germans are, of course, full of surprises...

German skipper, Michael Ballack, is really...

Jason Bourne...Ballack is his German alias...go easy with the hair gel lah.

These are nothing really, compared to this next revelation.

Drogba, is, really...

...a chabo kia! No matter everytime I see Didier, I feel like kissing him/her. Come on, Didier, give korkor a hug here...

Ok, that's all the secret identities that I have uncovered. Folks, please do remember to support David Seaman in his new sitcom.

David.

Oh sorry, his name is Earl.

This is my last World Cup post, folks. I won't talk about the tournament anymore. But before that, I just need to say this...

Great header, Zizou! I salute you, Wayne and Daniele (De Rossi). Real men who play football the way it should be played, with guts, blood and glory. And a few busted testicles, caved-in chestplates and rearranged facial features along the way, of course.

PS: Jean Grey asked me to write about Zizou's world-class header and what I thought about it. Sorry, it should really be what I know...because like the Cristy-Wayne affair, me got world-exclusive...but too bad lah, Zizou called me and tell me he wanna tell his own story so I respect his wishes. So ok lah, Botak, you tell the world your story, I leave you alone.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Hell Hath No Fury

Owen Hargreaves: Was happy until he became visibly upset by my criticism of his hair.

Ok, now onto my real story. In a real scoop, I now publish a world exclusive on the Real story behind the Wayne Rooney and Cristiano Ronaldo feud and what conspired to lead to that confrontation on the field.

Many of you may not actually know the true relationship between Messrs Rooney and Ronaldo. I find it hard and tedious to explain and type out the entire background story and since a picture tells a gazillion words, I will simply show you this picture.

"Aaaah...yessss...slurp it, Cristy. Harder, harder...AAAAAAHHHH!!!"

Please pardon my obssession with English gayness and ice-cream during this WC for there isn't really much else to get obssessed about, seeing that it has been a rather sterile and excitement-free tournament. But yes, folks, Wayne and Cristy has been boyfriend and girlfriend ever since they got together at the rather metrosexual club, Man Utd. And they have been trying desperately to keep it lidded from the world.

Cristy, of course, has always been a faithful girl and has always put up with Wayne's philandering ways. Heck, she even allowed Wayne to get it on with Colleen McLoughlin just to present a smokescreen to the world while he has to get it on rough and dirty with Wayne in extreme privacy or, as can be seen, on the pitch sometimes when urge gets the better of them.

Colleen McLoughlin: Naught but a smokescreen...very very nice screen though.

But every girl has her limits and increasingly, Cristy found herself irritated by Wayne's smokescreen relationship with Colleen and non-committance towards her. She also found herself increasingly attracted to master metrosexual Beckham-san at Real Madrid (which is why Cristy has been trying to get herself a transfer to Real these past few weeks). And let's face it, who wouldn't fall for the celebrated charms of the man when he tantalises you with come-ons like this.

"Come on, Cristy, come on, feel my behind..."

Let it be said, though, that in spite of the kinky invitations from the master, Cristy stayed faithful to her man...until this happened.

"Ricardo, I am sick of Cristy. I want your nuts instead!"

So in full view of his girlfriend, Wayne went for Ricardo's nuts even as he tried to entice Ricardo into licking his arse (which Ricardo valiantly resisted, as can be seen). What is a girl to do when your man, in full view of you, decides to "tackle" another man right in front of you? Of course, you'd flip, wouldn't you? Which is what Cristy did. The rest, as we know, is well chronicled in the papers...well, half of it anyway.

Cristy, seeing how unfaithful Wayne was, naturally went crying to the referee. "Did you see that?!", Cristy screamed. Well, that was the part reported by the papers. What the papers edited out was the later part of the sentence. Cristy then added, "How can my amante do this to me?!"

Wayne, seeing how his girl was bringing their hush-hush affair (and who knows what dirty laundry she might spill so he had to stop her there and then) into the public, did what any spouse-abuser would do. He pushed Cristy roughly away. And, of course, that totally pushed referee Horacio Elinzondo's buttons and he did what any decent man would do. He protected the girl and promptly sent Wayne off for assaulting his girlfriend, before Wayne actually got to the stage of tearing Cristy's bra off on the pitch.

We all know what happened then, or at least you think you do. Let me disclose the truth now. When Cristy was caught winking straight after the sending off by the TV cameras, he wasn't actually winking at Felipe Scolari. He was winking at BECKHAM. Fcuk! Yes, Beckham-san has stolen Wayne's girl from him. What a conspiracy!!! But didn't Cristy ignore Beckham-san?

Did you see Beckham-san crying manfully after he was substituted? Why did he cry? Well, it was because he could no longer stay on the pitch to help his fellow countrymen, you say. Nope, readers. He was crying because Cristy rejected his advances even on the pitch. He chased her so hard around the field that he actually injured his foot and had to be replaced. And upon seeing his tears, Cristy was slowly but surely moved by his sincerity (and is now joining her new lover at Real Madrid). But what about the headbutt Cristy aimed at Wayne just before the match, you ask? Headbutt? Are you nuts? Cristy was trying to kiss Wayne's neck.

Well, as we know, Wayne later tried to barge into the Portuguese dressing room, threatening to "sort her out and cut her in half". Wayne boy, easy with the humping now, dude.

And so this is the true story they didn't want you to know. What's the lesson to be learnt from all this? Well, it's an age-old lesson really.

Hell hath no fury like a girly man scorned. She can easily just end your World Cup there and then.

R&R: Happy days no more...