Monday, August 19, 2013

Oh so Trent's Got a New Song, Huh?

NIN fans are LOSING THEIR SHIT over this one:

It's a happy, upbeat NIN other words, it is the END OF THE WORLD.

It's gotten to the point where some people are demanding that this song be removed from the album and replaced with some old song they prefer.  LOLOLOLOLOL  I'm sure Trent and Co. will get right on that.

I have to admit, this song was quite a surprise.  But I really like what he's doing with the melody and the 80s pop sound.  It's definitely a much easier track to embrace upon first listen than "Came Back Haunted."  I know this is a departure from Trent's usual style, but why should he (and NIN) be limited expressing the following sentiments:

--I'm sad
--I'm angry
--I'm angry that I'm sad
--I'm sad that I'm angry
--I'm horny
--I'm sad that I'm horny
--I'm angry that I'm horny
--Being sad and angry makes me horny

Now when it comes to documenting the above emotions, Trent is a MASTER.  But I think we should keep our minds open and allow him to explore other aspects of the human condition.   A person has every right to not like any given song.  (StarFuckers Inc. = BLERGH)  But it's cracking me up that people have such angst over Trent releasing what sounds to be a peppy, feel-good song.

You don't HAVE to go on this particular journey with him.  The old albums are still there for you, if that's what you prefer.  As for me, I can't wait to hear the rest of this album.  And laugh at the goth hysteria.  

On Lady Gaga, "Applause," and the Expiration of Shock Art

In case you need some nightmare fodder...that Gaga Swan! I love Lady Gaga, but I'm worried that she's locked herself in a "shock box." She reminds me of Marilyn Manson--and not just because from certain angles, she looks like she could be his sister. Manson just wants to write songs about drugs and his latest break-up, like any other musician, but his identity is too tied up in the make-up and "alternate, unedited" versions of his videos featuring little people who snort cocaine while riding taxidermied animals as MM himself chews shards of broken glass. If he stripped himself of all that nonsense and released an acoustic album as "Brian Warner," now THAT would be shocking.

Gaga has practically stripped herself down to her skeleton, and we've seen her naked as a jaybird, but it still doesn't feel like we've seen her soul. Her music has never been as innovative as her visual presentation. She produces catchy pop music that you want to dance to at clubs with your gay BFF.  (If you're 23 or under. Once you start creeping towards your 30s, fuck it--you just want to stay in and watch TV.) The music seems to be supplemental to the sexy horrorshow imagery.  Around the time of "The Fame" and "The Fame Monster," it seemed that she was a pop star who was at least doing something different and interesting.  She may still be half-naked and twerking, but at least she's surrounded herself with little people snorting cocaine while riding taxidermied animals as she chews shards of broken glass.  Two albums later, and it feels repetitive and, sadly, boring.  

Like Amanda Palmer, Gaga is trying so hard to MAKE ART. Art is certainly not effortless, but it should LOOK effortless.  Maybe it's the disconnect between the dance-y pop music and the desperate need to make it all look significant.  Maybe she's not going far enough...that Gaga head on a swan body is TOO MUCH, however.  Maybe she should focus her considerable talent away from songs about her cell phone and being famous and give us a glimpse of the REAL Stefani Germanotta.

I won't lie, though, the "hands bra" in this video for "Applause" is incredible.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Just About the Best Video Ever Made...

The Bryan Cranston cameo takes this over the edge.  Since it's just me talking to myself for now, there's going to be a LOT of Breaking Bad discussion.  With myself.

Maise the Twit

I had abandoned my Twitter account for about three years, feeling that I had lost interest in anyone's 140-character thoughts.  Plus, Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman seem to be hell-bent on killing the Internet with their INCESSANT CHATTER...OH MY GOD, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!!!  I admire and respect them both, but Jesus Christ almighty!!!  Do they ever just talk on the phone or have face-to-face conversations?  Do they watch TV or go to the grocery store?  Their inner monologues are just tweeted all day and all night!  The simple answer is that I should just "unfollow" them if I don't want that much exposure to them, but I kind of enjoy marveling at how they NEVER stop Tweeting.  I sort of love to hate them at this point.

Neil and Amanda, I'm a fan.  This comes out of love.  Consider creating a "mystique."  A quiet mystique behind which fans only get the tiniest glance.  When I fall in love with someone, I don't want to know EVERYTHING about that person all at once.  I want that person to be an onion of secrets, and I can gradually peel back the layers.  Not that onions are very sexy.  I just can't really think of anything else that comes off in layers like that.  Anyway.

So yesterday I was looking back at my own limited Twitter persona, and I realized, God, I'm kind of an asshole!  Especially to poor Trent Reznor.  When I have tweeted at him, look what I've written:

Good job riling up the Prince fans. Now they're starting to invade our blog. The rabid Weezer fans will be next, I suppose.

I'd like to bitch about my workload. Policing my blog for anti-you trolls doesn't help. 2 hrs of overtime and counting...

(This was around the time that Trent got engaged, and because we at Places Parallel were not permitting racist nastiness to be posted on our website about Mariqueen, Iris and I started to become the scapegoat for everyone's sexual frustration and broken dreams. So I was a little frustrated.)

I think you should go back to terse updates. Like one cryptic sentence every two weeks for everyone to agonize over.

(See? Mystique.)

Yes, it must be HORRIBLE to gallivant around Europe in the summer, being a rock star. This office-dwelling bitch feels you.

Wow, I had forgotten what it was like to be a Twitter addict. It's not quite the same without 's tantrums and troll-baiting.

And I wonder why he doesn't follow me!  But he's never told me to "fuck off," either, and he even gave Iris a hug with her L'Orangerie Stank shirt on.

So I'm a trouble-maker on the Internet.  And I probably will be until I get the cease-and-desist letter.  If I ever become creatively successful, someone may just harass me in the persona of my dead chinchilla, Rollo. That's karma, but I wouldn't mind too much. She always was sassy, with a dirty mouth.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

I Came Back. Came Back Haunted.

Huh. This all still works. Nobody here but the spammers and the ghosts of haters, inexplicably accusing us of being obese just because Trent Reznor got himself hitched. Which is fine. I'm not sure where I'm going to be taking this's like a box of stuff from college that you've kept in your basement, untouched for years, all dusty and full of cobwebs, and there may be a live beetle somewhere near the bottom, so you're a bit hesitant to dig through it.

Taking a three-year break. Now THAT'S a way to promote your blog!

Still, the break was needed. Things were getting a bit crazy around here, and what was really fun was no longer fun. Three years later, in my unassuming real life, I've been questioning a lot of things--what is my calling? Am I really meant to be a writer? Gosh, I really AM fat now, aren't I? A lot of things that I've fought hard for in this life hardly seem worthwhile. So I've got a bit of fire in my belly--unclutter, escape from an untenable situation, go for a jog now and again, sort out this writing question once and for all. I was thinking of starting a new blog. But I think this old one will do. No one but me and the spammers and the haters and hopefully you.

Oh, and this past weekend I was here. I mean, I couldn't SEE any of this...I'm far too short and was well in the back of the crowd, but it was an amazing, cathartic experience, regardless. I'm so happy that I can still look forward to hearing these songs live for a while, that Trent was lying when he "waved goodbye."

But two observations: 1) Those shorts are HIDEOUS. I mean, an actual fashion atrocity. They're like harem pants, but khaki shorts. They've got like three feet of crotch space. Like what was he thinking...ugh, no. 2) He really needs to get a handle on the "HEY"s and the "GO!"s. A direct quote from "Came Back Haunted": "Ha ha ha ha...GO!" These exclamations seem almost involuntary at this point, but with a little cognitive therapy, I think he can work through it.

This won't be solely a NIN parody-blog-thing, or whatever we were doing before. Nor will it only be a music review blog. I've hijacked this shit, and hopefully we'll be going to places parallel to the places parallel Iris and I originally imagined. Unless I say "fuck it" and let the grass and the weeds and the trees overrun this place. No harm done in that case. Who doesn't need more links to Viagra and new, exciting ways to make money at home?