Fuck Video Games (Vol. 1)

The more astute among you will know that I'm not saying any of this to be somehow "contrary", to hate the thing everybody loves. Shit man, I was looking forward to Brawl as much as the next guy: even denied myself access to the "Dojo", a sly marketing technique on Nintendo's part whereby details of the game were steadily leaked until... well, practically everything was known. Naw man, I was already sold as a seasoned (if unprofessional) Melee veteran looking to Recapture the Glory. It's happened before, you know. Mario Galaxy was really fun, but --

-- but I don't play it, Mr. Miyamoto, I don't play it. That's a problem! If I'm looking for a good Mario game I'll dust off my N64 and look to "The Nineties", thank you! Leave my forwarding address with that elusive rabbit and take that Castle Secret Slide straight down to the fuckin' No Doubt concert! Starfuckers!

So is it the same with Brawl? Is it permanently overshadowed by Melee? No. The problem with nostalgia, Mr. Miyamoto, is that it's impossible to feel nostalgia for nostalgia. Brawl is a self-addressed Nintendo love letter more than a "game", that's no secret, but

any future love letters to Brawl will need to be addressed to its "original" properties, almost all of which find their way from down an inbred family tree beginning with the original "Game of '99", most of which were simply tacked on by HAL so as to minimally interfere with the Core Element: the Nintendo property.

Here's what that leaves us with: a cynical "self" that self-references a self-referencing self. Gaaame over! CONTINUE?

So I guess that's why I find myself playing Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines again this week instead of partaking in the expected Brawl honeymoon. A lot of stomping can and should be done about this game, criminally ignored for being simultaneously rushed and ahead of its time, its many bugs corrected over the years by understandably-dedicated fans. But that's for its own article. Why's Bloodlines so hot? It ain't a video game, kids... it's a supremely successful film! Suck it!



Does It Offend You, Yeah? "Modern" video games are successful when they try their best to be totally transparent, to suck to the lies (if you will) of another medium altogether. Bloodlines for film, Rock Band for music... even No More Heroes, at first seemingly a celebration of "video gaming", is actually the product of mid-nineties Otaku culture: Japan looking at America while America looked at Japan. Shit went down.

And it's appropriate NMH should look longingly to the nineties, just as Brawl does: as attempted celebrations of gaming, they can only celebrate the past. What of "gamer gaming", then? The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, Super Mario 64 and Metal Gear Solid killed the practice to such an extent that it now consists hollowly of macho-shit-wankfests and bleary-eyed double-nostalgia trips. Hm... I'll take that to go, thanks! See ya in Gears of War tonight?

Fuck video games.

Got a Nickel for Ya!

Here ya go, kid.

Now at this point you're bobbing your head in anticipation and I'm supposed to provide you the lens through which you view this. What, are you supposed to revile this, deploring the modern state of popular music? Or are you supposed to marvel at how our intrepid DJ friend has put together a thoroughly listenable track from these base (note the double meaning, kids- it could pay off in English class!) components? Or is this a "Pitchfork-rates-Since-U-Been-Gone-
The-2nd-Best-Track-Of-The-Year" affairs, where we assert superiority over those other pretentious guys by demonstrating that pop music isn't bad, it's just above them?

Hey, fuck you, customers.

I'm a genre culture critic, not Franklin (Delanooooooooo) Roosevelt. Hold your own fucking hands, will you? Those of you who immediately figured out the right answer on your own can watch Lost (wait, are we allowed to watch that?!? Quick, gimme a sign!) and go to sleep happy and healthy. The rest of you are welcome to furrow your brows until you assure yourself that I, of course, am just as in the dark as you are.

It's convenient that way, innit?

Nos Chers Amis 2007 (Part 3)

I Can See You From Space

• Playstation 3: Frequently I'm asked to justify the purchase of a PS3 in lieu of a 360, given the classic "but what about the games, man?" argument. Hey, you: take a quick peek at the Warmest Reception category. Shit's enough to make your console overheat, eh?
• Cloverfield Marketing Department: Hey- psst! Hey kid, c'mere. Come over 'ere, I got a nickel for ya. Ain't gonna hurt ya kid, I ain't gonna hurt ya, nobody's gonna hurt ya. Just wanna talk is all, wanna talk to a kid is like you is all. Hey, hey, don't worry, kid, it's cool, it's all cool. Here, look, I ain't armed or nothin', I just wanna talk, got somethin' I wanna ask ya. Now why don'tcha c'mere and get yer shiny nickel? That's right, kid, attaboy, that's a good kid- [WHAM] J.J. Abrams has taken off his mask and is smiling over you as you clutch your testicles in vain.
• Justice - Cross: FUCK the whiners. "It's not cool anymoooore", "Uffie's song is the beeeest", "Amy Winehouse is a heeero." Four capital letters.

Napoleon.In.Rags: The way you move is so miserly!
paris.by.night: Yeah? Probably 'cause that shit shattered my bones.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Universal healthcare is tough shit. Throw a bone to the Vietnam war, will ya. Gettin' cold in here.
paris.by.night: Post Traumatic Stress: Waugh, wah-uh WAH-AW!
paris.by.night: Enough bones thrown?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Fun fact, kids: Every suburb in America contains a club called El Divino (PRINTED IN GOLD) where you have to wear a white shirt to get in (CAUSE DETAILS MAKE THE GIRLS SWEAT). Any brave souls gonna take Xavier and Gaspard up on their offer here? We're looking for a message.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Fact of the matter is, Justice has not been to every suburb in America. Far as I can tell they can keep their black shirts in the closet.
paris.by.night: Black shirts?! Dollars and cents, my good man! These gentlemen are the dollars and cents of french house!
paris.by.night: What does that make fuckin'... fuckin' Digitalism?
paris.by.night: HINT: It's an -ism!
Napoleon.In.Rags: Wait, Digitalism is still relevant?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Oh... I got yer number! Bait'n'switch for the bloghopper indie kids! You've been hoodwinked, folks.
paris.by.night: Exactly: no more relevant than Stalin, I'd wager, but there'll always be the red men from Cairo.
paris.by.night: Playing goddamn Xbox 360s.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Blu-Ray = Hillary Clinton?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Go ahead, draw up the rest of the metaphor. Here, I'll even leave the remaining fields blank so you can pretend to take credit for it.
paris.by.night: I'm not finishing shit! I'm not comfortable with that, you can't decide that based on a format war, you can't sugge--
Napoleon.In.Rags: ? = ?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Go! Chop that wood!
paris.by.night: So be it. Hilary Clinton = Burial. A=B, B=C, A=C. Suck it.
Amy Winehouse: HOLDIN YOOOUUUU
paris.by.night: Holy shit
paris.by.night: C=D ain't something I'm prepared to handle. You?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Let's uh... let's not take any options off the table.
Napoleon.In.Rags: I mean, I'm prepared to go all the way up to J = J = Abrams. (This is known as a "segue")
paris.by.night: Would you be willing to participate in a quick mock interview playing the role of Mr. Abrams?
paris.by.night: I've only really got one question.
paris.by.night: Are you the lonely man in the lonely tower, the lonely man with all the power?
Napoleon.In.Rags: [A plot twist]
paris.by.night: ... Hello, Mr. Abrams? We're hitting a bit of static.
Napoleon.In.Rags: [A character is now dead]
Napoleon.In.Rags: [The character is no longer dead]
paris.by.night: Mr. Abrams, that was entirely inappropriate.
paris.by.night: I'd like you to apologize, Mr. Abrams.
Napoleon.In.Rags: [Hey, fuck you, customer]
Napoleon.In.Rags: [A plot twist]
paris.by.night: Looks like I've got my answer.
paris.by.night: [I set the phone down. Miss the receiver, don't ya know.]
Napoleon.In.Rags: Shit, I was out for a few minutes, wasn't I? What'd I miss?
paris.by.night: The most frightening phone call of my life.

Most charming in our eyes: Justice - Cross

Strongest Man From a God From a Machine

• Super Mario Galaxy: The logical continuation of two major trends: the advancement of a series through successive improvements and the growing disdain of fans longing for the Old Time. Go listen to some fuckin' Nirvana.
• No Country for Old Men: What's the most. You've ever lost. On a coin toss.
• Lair: For those of you ready to Ctrl-C + Ctrl-V your standard flame composed of equal parts "$hittf@gs" and "sixaxis", I offer you the following advice: Euclidean space has only three axes. Seriously, what the fuck!

paris.by.night: You know, people tell me Lair is really more of a vacuous darling...
Napoleon.In.Rags: Isn't she pretty!
paris.by.night: That she is. Not too pretty; not above criticism. I like that.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Pop quiz: How many axes are there?
paris.by.night: [A bold man leaps onto the stage, eyes ablaze with passion, screaming "SIX!"]
paris.by.night: [I stare into his left eye and remark 'I should only see half of you."]
Napoleon.In.Rags: See, that's exactly the thing. Anyone who's got shit to say about Lair is the bastard child of unmitigated expectations and unmitigated shame. I'm riding a fuckin' dragon, folks!
paris.by.night: Of course it's full of the things people love to complain about: they jump up and down screaming "this shit takes itself seriously!" Hah. As if to imply that, say, a lethal traffic cone from a blown reactor is a qualification? I could get that on the first Playstation.
Napoleon.In.Rags: I'm breathing fire and shit! FWOOOOOSSH! Out of the way, kids, I'm lethal!
paris.by.night: Looks like we're cooked, Mr. Harrison! Positively cooked!
Amy Winehouse: RIIIIIIIIDGE RACER!
paris.by.night: The race is about to get started, yes -- but what's this, a dragon on the road?
paris.by.night: Looks like we'll have to call The Man.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Stomp, stomp!
paris.by.night: What was his name again?
paris.by.night: Sugar or something?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Look, you can call him whatever you want.
Napoleon.In.Rags: All I know is he's the ultimate badass or something.
paris.by.night: Have you ever... seen him?
paris.by.night: I know I haven't-- what's this?? Good Lord He's On That Dragon.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Our only hope left is to trust in... wait, Mario?

Napoleon.In.Rags: Fuck, that can't be right!
paris.by.night: Well I guess that's good in theory, yeah?
paris.by.night: I mean he can jump, and we're dealing with a dragon...
Napoleon.In.Rags: No, this is some scary shit here! Gimme the Old Time!
Napoleon.In.Rags: Gimme an NES, gimme a game that was good only due to novelty value and that has aged terribly, and gimme my big brother's acoustic guitar so I can play Come As You Are because I haven't even learned fuckin' power chords yet!
paris.by.night: Gimme...
paris.by.night: Gimme Back My Alcohol.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Bottoms up, boys! Ain't no use bein' sober when a dragon just set you on fire!

Most charming in our eyes: Lair

Most Vacuous Darling

• No More Heroes: This is a genre culture blog, after all! What's this I'm hearing, are you standing up to protest? "But this game's stup--" Oops, looks like you got cut off by TRAVIS TOUCHDOWN.
• Vampire Weekend - Blue CDR: Now this is one hell of an impressive feat, considering that everything is stacked against these kids vis a vis musical credibility. Fuckin' Ivy-League Afro-profanity flop-mongers don't even know when to use a fuckin' Oxford comma!
• Black Kids - Wizard of Ahhhs: The most unlikeable part of this is how much you like this unlikeable shit.

paris.by.night: Wait! Wait, look at those nominations!
paris.by.night: Do we LIKE these things?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Oh, hey there. Listen: Marcel and I were planning to head down to Harvard Yard this weekend, maybe hit up Bartley's and find ourselves a poetry circle. Wanna come, fuckbag?
paris.by.night: Walcott, don't you know that it's insane?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Hear me out! Astley and Joph are probably gonna be there, and Joph's been telling me about a new piece he's working on. It's post-word. Massive shit, bonhomme. You in or out?
paris.by.night: I'll stay the fuck out, thanks.
paris.by.night: I read Joph's annual coal reports and there are major discrepancies
Napoleon.In.Rags: You're not implying that he--
paris.by.night: Yeah, something like that.
paris.by.night: Something dumb like that.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Travis Touchdown, he always tells the truth!
paris.by.night: It's easy to tell the truth when you decide what truth is -- or are we giving Mr. Touchdown too much power?
paris.by.night: Whoa, whoa!
paris.by.night: I just suggested we were giving MISTER TOUCHDOWN too much POWER!
Napoleon.In.Rags: He's got a fuckin' lightsaber! You gotta watch yourself around that thing!
Napoleon.In.Rags: Wait... or is he the one that makes a derivative blend of synthpop and the fecal matter of the British Invasion?
Napoleon.In.Rags: I can never remember these things!
paris.by.night: What's worse: a band that comes from a social networking boom or a band that comes from That Site?
Napoleon.In.Rags: No, seriously: which is which?
Napoleon.In.Rags: You're not giving me an actual choice with these terms!
paris.by.night: Alright, I think I figured it out: No More Heroes hail from Myspace, Black Kids from P--
Napoleon.In.Rags: Hey, stop right there!
Napoleon.In.Rags: The point of the joke here is that No More Heroes is actually a video game, but think about it!
Napoleon.In.Rags: That's an outstanding name for a pack of purveyors of MySpace Rock!
Napoleon.In.Rags: Quick, what's the name of their first single?
paris.by.night: "(At Times) I'm Shot"
Napoleon.In.Rags: Impressive work. The most obnoxiously-named member of their Top 8?
paris.by.night: Amy fuckin' Winehouse.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Inevitable. And the band that picks them up as the opening act of a major tour only to dump them midway after realizing nobody cares about MySpace anymore?
paris.by.night: Band?
paris.by.night: Hah!
paris.by.night: Fuckin' Burial.

Most charming in our eyes: Vampire Weekend - Blue CDR

Hear Us, Enemies: We're Looking Up Now!

So yeah, the fast-approaching release of a new My Bloody Valentine record ain't exactly news at this point, but if one must write a fluff piece, it might as well cover the wonderful men and women responsible for The EP -- oh, yeah, and that other thing.

What have I prepared for you, then? What could I possibly have in mind if even I concede this news to be old? Ladies and gentlemen, I've prepared a review of sorts of MBV's new record, Antidotes. Brief? Yes. Blunt? Yes. Serviceable? C'mere, Nariko!

1. "The French Open": A malignant radiologged popgrunge-meets-Ozzy riff leaves no room for the pop sensibilities of "Only Shallow", the compresson that beautified "Loomer".
   
2. "Cassius" - Dieu! Here there are cunning references to a man's personal life, a lyrical motif that's only recently replaced The Protest Anthem as the CanceRockist call to arms. Hey, I hope that divorce works out well for ya.
   
3. "Red Socks Pugie": Isn't Anything invented a genre and Loveless destroyed it: was I wrong to expect a new world to spring up here, a veritable "pop garden" replete with hooks and ____? (Sorry, MBV: that's your job.) There is no room for "core pop" on Antidotes.
   
4. "Olympic Airways": Mes chansons, que dieu les bénisse! What we have here is unfiltered, unimaginative blues-pop which manages to somehow stand in the shadow of the already-just-adequate "Red Socks"! I could get better entertainment strangling myself to Pokémon Blue.
5. "The Race For Radio Supremacy": But... but I'm avant-garde!
   
6. "Balloons"
   
7. "Heavy Water": Here's some supplementary listening.
   
8. "Two Steps, Twice"
9. "Big Big Love (Fig.2)": Sure, go ahead and sing -- no one listens to track 9 anyway, right?
   
10. "Like Swimming": Steal from yourself, be my guest! No one listens to track 10 anyway, right?!
    
11. "Tron": Oh to hell with it, it's time to come clean.

I didn't just rip into My Bloody Valentine. I fucking love My Bloody Valentine. Sorry, Mr. White, looks like the joke's on you. You know what won't have any of the above problems? The new fucking MBV record. 10.0/10 (Charmed)

That Awful Man, How Could He Do Such a Thing!

Aww, you're makin' it too easy on me. Scroll down a ways if you want to see how blindingly correct I turned out to be. Even managed to call the Herring-Kongo fight (which, as a little bird tells me, is somewhat of an upset).

Don't feel ashamed, happens to be best of us. But, y'know boys'n'girls, you might wanna scramble the Spitfires if you wanna keep any hope of catching up!

You Used To Be So Amused: God.Save.The.King

The NCA process can create quite the moral hangover in a man, so I figured I'd combat the ennui via a digression on a pet subject of mine: the supergroup. The idea came to me as I was listening to some Fifths of Seven and Swan Lake, following it up with a double dose of A Silver Mt. Zion and New Pornographers (I then realized that most of the dozens of indie supergroups are just a different permutation of the same five or so people, but that's a story for a different night, m'boy!) Seeing as I'm not Wikipedia, I'll spare you the lengthy conceptual history of the supergroup and move onto my personal dream lineup. The band will be called God.Save.The.King (I trust you will believe me when I say he needs saving).

Keyboards/Effects: SebastiAn

I'm contractually obligated to use the word “auteur” at least once in my description of young SebastiAn, so here goes: he's a fuckin' auteur. SebastiAn has proved time and time again that he remixes (kills?) with brutal efficiency, surgically slicing out a miniscule segment of the target song and encasing it in electro perfection until he flings it back at its original creator, who now feels just a bit embarrassed. Within this context I have no doubt that he'd live up to his previous successes, playfully wagging his finger at his bandmates as if to say “You are not yet perfect, mon ami!”

Bass: The guy from Tokyo Police Club

According to the band's website, his name is Dave Monks, as if that fucking matters. Also according to the band's website, he does vocals for the group, which I sure hope means he's the tolerable guy who sings for about seven seconds in Citizens of Tomorrow and not the joke whose impotence perpetually drags the group down. He's one of the fellows in the picture to your left (most likely the one with the second-to-least self-confidence), and I include him because he's probably the only bassist I can think of who makes his instrument matter (funk is not a genre, now shave off that soul patch and go home). From the opening moments of Nature of the Experiment's “Kong-kadong-ong!”, he continually reminds us that bass is in fact an instrument and not just a tried-and true technique that people in fast cars can use to prevent suburbanites from sleeping at 1 AM.

Drums: SebastiAn

Aww fuck, I gotta choose a drummer? Really? Y'know what, let's try this. You know what has drums? Electronic music. You know who makes that? SebastiAn. You know who's already in my group? SebastiAn. Now get the fuck away from me.

Guitarist: The Edge

Obviously I feel kinda odd about giving him the nod, seeing as half of you fuckers won't be content unless Steve Vai, Joe Satriani, and Yngwie Malmsteen all get nods. Believe me, I had a hard time justifying this, especially seeing as new U2 (and old U2!) is a testament to musical mediocrity. But as I was reaching desperately for someone I could nominate as the ideal guitarist, I realized that the only time I have ever cared about what a guitar in particular is doing is during New Year's Day. That song is a man skydiving out of a helicopter with a chainsaw in each hand in order to infiltrate a razor wire factory. That song, along with the fact that U2 did preempt The Arcade Fire by about two decades when they made Sunday Bloody Sunday, is enough in my book. I'm just going to conveniently forget that he had anything to do with any of U2's (Burial's?) songs.

Multi-Instrumentalist: Spencer Krug

Alright, got that out of the way. No idea what he'd play, but seeing as he's pretty much a prerequisite for such endeavors, I'm sure he'll be able to figure out. If we ever have a song that requires an electric dulcimer (note: all songs require the electric dulcimer), we'll toss one in front
of him and watch him please us.

Vocalist: Chris Daughtry

While you're certainly entitled to your torches and pitchforks, keep in mind that I'm giving the nod to the man and not to his music, if you will. I understand that Daughtry's songs are middling at best, but this has less to do with his vocal talent and more to do with the fact that he has terrible taste in music. The fact of the matter is that Mr. Daughtry is an amazing singer who would fit perfectly in this affair, if his urges to compose lukewarm 90's-poseur ballads could only be kept in check. An added bonus is that he looks like he could play a mysterious assassin named Salazar in a B-grade action movie that I'd completely want to see. No, seriously, imagine it. Eric Bana is stalking through the corridors of the nefarious biotech company, ruthlessly employing his jujitsu expertise on any guard foolish enough to get in his way. He's only one room away from the antidote chamber, but when he gets there, the guards are already dead. How could this be? He doesn't have time to find out, as he hears the sound of a katana being drawn behind him!

Architect: Thom Yorke

Inevitable. When you have this many musicians of different backgrounds, some more legitimate than others (fuck, I just realized that I put Chris Daughtry in this!), you need someone to tell them when and how to shut up and sit down. Yorke is that man, as has been proven time and time again. He levitates through cities of light, disdaining the concept of the genre to such an extent that he has decided to master them all. He tells each member of the band exactly what they must do if they ever want to be loved by anyone at all. He smiles gently at SebastiAn, who now starts to realize as a pit forms in his stomach that Sacre bleu, this man is more perfect than I!

Addendum: UFC 82 Predictions

Jon Fitch vs. Chris Wilson

Chris Leben vs. Alessio Sakara
Evan Tanner vs. Yushin Okami
Cheick Kongo vs. Heath Herring
Anderson Silva vs. Dan Henderson