Albums From The Attic: Isreal Kamakawiwoʻole - Ka 'Ano'i

I can't pretend to know the Hawai'ian islands to the degree that singer Israel Kamakawiwoʻole did, but after a short couple of months spent working on the small island of Moloka'i I like to think I understand a little bit of the appeal of that tropical chain.  While reggae music seems to have been a relatively small but significant subgenre here in the US's pop music scene, world music (and especially island music) has always been an understandably underground affair with few mainstream advocates - Peter Gabriel is the only one who comes to mind. The music of Isreal Kamakawiwoʻole, unquestionably the most celebrated Hawai'ian musician of his time, was able to leap over the cultural divide and find crossover success in the mainland thanks to the resonance of his 1990 single "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World", heard in film and TV soundtracks throughout the world ever since. While that single and it's 1993 containing album Facing Future earned him his biggest success, Isreal's debut album released in 1990, Ka 'Ano'i, has fallen into the shadow caused by his more eagerly received later releases.

Encapsulating a breadth of genres, Ka 'Ano'i effortlessly slips between old-time folk/island/reggae standards and traditional Hawai'ian pieces with equivalent ease. Bouncy opener "Margarita" sets the tone for the rest of the disc as follow-up "Coney Island Washboard Woman" clues you in to Isreal's sense of humor, before his gorgeous vocals and lazy ukelele playing provide a brilliant counterpoint in slower tracks like the etheral "Kainoa" and the excellently sleepy cover of "You Don't Know Me". Traditional Hawai'ian folk numbers fill out the rest of the record's modest 33 minute runtime, the strongest being the lilting "Ka Na‘i Aupuni" while Iz's best-known recording appears in an early prototype form to round out the package. While he is supported by a competent backing band, the strongest tracks on Ka 'Ano'i are the ones with just Iz and his ukelele, especially as some of the more over-produced and cheesy electronic instrumentation creeps in on "Men Who Ride Mountains" and "Sea of Love" to detract from the simple brilliance of Kamakawiwoʻole's vocal talents. The production throughout is warm and intimate and the whole thing is honestly just a simple joy to listen to.

Even if you don't recognize his name, you almost certainly will recognize at least one of these songs and will have a tough time not enjoying your time with the other excellent material found on Ka 'Ano'i.

Titanfall 2's Identity Crisis

Respawn dropped a trailer for the upcoming free DLC update yesterday showcasing the grand reveal of 2 new "Prime" Titans (fancy skins), the return of a map called Colony from the original Titanfall, and a new weapon, the R-101 (mostly just a reskin of the R-201). As such it was time for everyone to weigh in with their insightful comments on why the game is still continuously bleeding players even with such an "excellent" post-launch content model and it's "amazing" gameplay. I've seen a couple of people hitting on the real reason but they're drowned in the stormy seas of "lul @ EA" and "something something release date". As someone with just over 100 hundred hours clocked into this thing I think I've arrived at the big reason the game is failing to draw in new players: It's fundamentally not fun for weak players.

In terms of skill floors and ceilings, Titanfall 2 has one of the widest gaps between shit players repping team potato and 1000 DPI former Quake pros with wrists more bulging and beefed out than most dudes' biceps. That isn't an issue in and of itself, and neither is the snowball-y the-rich-get-richer killstreak system that rewards those better players with their Titans far earlier than their opponents - the real problem, and one that other, more team-based FPS games like Killing Floor and Overwatch mostly solved, is giving the average player who doesn't know how to bunny hop across the maps at 55 MPH a way to contribute to the match. While there is a killstreak reward (referred to as "boosts" here) that gives you an extra battery to give to a teammate's Titan for a bonus shield, it's not particularly deep or something you can base a strategy around.

Next to that we have the Titans themselves, which are divided into 6 distinct "classes" this time around. They're all unique in appearance and abilities and provide another thick layer of strategy on top of the manic ground game of the PvP combat, and that uniqueness gives the game an almost MOBA-esque feel (especially in modes with AI grunts like Attrition) as well as giving players a "character" to identify with and "main", similar to Overwatch. However with only 6 different choices any hope of a competitive playlist seems DoA, without even mentioning the balance of those individual Titans Titanfall 2 straddles a middle ground between full-on hero focus a la Overwatch/Dota with a small degree of customization as a holdover from it's days of aping the Modern Warfare games that it was built from. While customizing your particular Titan in the original Titanfall seems to have been a well-received feature, I'm much more interested in seeing how far Respawn can push the hero archetypes with this franchise. Possibilities for more traditional team-based shooter classes like healers and supports seem wide with the broad sci-fi universe that the games are based in, and a the Titan that wasn't just a DPS front-line combat machine seems interesting at the very least.

Titanfall 2 will continue to bleed players until all that remains is a crusty enclave of big fish in the very small pond of Titanfall games, and I don't want that to happen. If Respawn embraces the strength of their Titan designs and allows for some more varied gameplay with alternate avenues to victory for all of us who aren't 15 year olds wired up on Adderall that would do a lot to bridge the gap.

KXM - Scatterbrain

The sudden formation of KXM in 2014 and their debut album released quickly afterwards was one of my favorite records of recent years. Who would have thought that a group comprised of members of Korn, King's X, and Dokken would've sounded so good? While the disc had it's share of clunkers and sounded a bit too much like a dUg Pinnick solo album at times, it had plenty of strong moments and the fresh blood and enthusiasm exuding from guitarist George Lynch and drummer Ray Luzier seemed to have galvanized Pinnick and finally have provided with him with some bandmates that he could bounce material off effectively since his longtime comrades from King's X. Personally I assumed 2014's KXM was strictly a one-time affair due to the busy schedules of everyone involved, but the announcement of a second album was heavily anticipated by me personally, and so far this new release Scatterbrain has been receiving high marks from whatever rock press is left these days. So is it worth the buzz or has KXM gone the way of The Winery Dogs and lost the plot?

Judging solely by the singles released ahead of the album, Scatterbrain at least isn't a total loss. The opening one-two punch of the title track and follow-up "Breakout" begin things well, particularly the latter track with its multi-part vocal harmonies, climactic finale and that 100% grade-A-filthy main riff from George Lynch. "Big Sky Country" sees the trio stretch out over a bluesy groove as wide as a flood plain before moving into the first of the disc's more challenging tracks, "Calypso". Harsh, almost dissonant guitar leads alongside a doubled bassline provide a dark undergrowth as tribal drum rhythms propel us deeper into the jungle, while gang vocals anchor the chorus and provide an interesting counterpoint to Pinnick's impassioned wailing. It's a far cry from KXM's previous material and is the first of several tracks to experiment with more alternative genres (and one of the more successful ones at that) as the group moves right along into the reggae-funk of "Not A Single Word", which is again elevated by the stellar playing of George Lynch who is rapidly climbing the ranks of "most underrated guitar player". His combination of swaggering crunch and playful eagerness for experimentation, particularly on high-water-marks like "Obsession", album standout "Noises In The Sky", and "Never Enough", as I found myself constantly impressed not only by his raw riffwork but his tone and choice of effects.

This is the part where I talk about the other band members and how they contribute greatly to Scatterbrain's successes as well, but while I will (and they do) I think George Lynch really stole the show with this one. Ray Luzier is obviously an immensely talented drummer and shows off more of his extensive range here but I can't help but get a Mike Mangini vibe from his playing - he's almost too good for my liking and at times its a bit odd to have the relatively straight-forward hard rock of Lynch and Pinnick being supported by this highly technical web of polyrhythms. With that said the production of Luzier's drums in particular and the record as a whole is altogether fuller and noticeably more rich here than the stiff, at times grating mix found on KXM, despite that album having a slightly higher DR score than Scatterbrain - strange. The material on Scatterbrain also feels more developed than what was found on KXM, with a few songs that I suspect would've ended up as solid clunkers had they been included on that album ("Stand", "Together") managing to shift gears midway through and at least partially redeem themselves with a well-done bridge or solo section. While the record slows down towards the end with more misses than hits, the laid back lullaby of "Angel" ends things on a high note. And its those peaks and valleys that make Scatterbrain all the more memorable and successful as a follow-up to KXM. Pinnick, Luzier and Lynch cover a surprisingly wide area swath of genres with this one and it seems plainly evident how much sheer fun they had recording it, navigating deftly throughout each piece's own little twists and turns. An expansion on their debut's foundation, Scatterbrain reassuringly signals that there is still plenty of gas left in the tank here and against all conventional wisdom and historical trends, KXM manages to be one of the few supergroups worth keeping a close eye on.

Otaku: Japan's Database Animals

Anime has never been a genre (style?) that I've been particularly interested in. My experience with it is about as shallow as it gets as I can count the number of actual shows I've seen on one hand, not counting the scattered reruns of Cowboy Bebop thanks to Adult Swim, and from what little exposure I've had to other popular shows hasn't exactly grabbed me. In particular I've always felt a bit weirded out by the "idiosyncrasies" of the style (high pitched shrieking female voice acting, the V sign thing, sweat drop/angry indicators, etc.) and I always kind of wondered why I didn't feel the same way about Western shows/movies and their own tropes and recurring elements, and I Hiroki Azuma's brilliant book Otaku: Japan's Database Animals has helped illuminate that for me.

Hiroki Azuma is a social critic, philosopher, and PhD at the Tokyo Institute of Technology who focuses on postmodern and other topics of "new" criticism (my term, not his). I was made aware of him through a link to both a short profile of him as well as a link to his most well known book, titled Otaku: Japan's Database Animals. Written originally in 2001 it is a fascinating examination of not just the Otaku subculture of modern day Japan but our postmodern society in general and the increasingly "nonnarrative" direction culture is going in. The main thrust of the book is that Otaku culture and the products (both physical and cultural) they consume are increasingly lacking in what Azumi terms a "grand narrative", instead moving more and more towards hollow combinations of attractive elements. In terms of the general anime style this means easily identifiable traits Azumi refers to as "moe-elements" constructed to encourage certain emotional reactions - cat ears, maid uniforms, etc. The reason Otaku are drawn to these products is not the appeal of some "grand narrative" that attempts to grapple with the human condition or any other similarly lofty goal, but because they assemble disparate combinations of these "moe-elements" into easily categorize-able entities, hence the "database". Each individual work is therefore not meant to be enjoyed on its own but rather as an endless game of musical chairs with characters, settings, and designs from other works as part of the "database" of "moe-elements". It's kind of abstract so if this explanation doesn't make any sense... just read the book.

While Azumi focuses on Otaku culture in particular, I think that his ideas on the trend of cultures moving towards postmodernism "nonnarrative" seeking and "database" attraction isn't something unique to Japan. Many subcultures raised around small niches probably show signs of this slide towards postmodernity and one that immediately comes to mind for me is the metal community, especially internet hubs like r/metal. The focus has always seemed to be on quantity above quality, with members competing to see who can rattle off a more impressive list of underground post-rock-doom-sludge-prog-shoegaze-whatever bands than engaging with the actual musical product produced by these acts in a critical way. This trend of engaging with products and culture on a "database" level can probably be seen in the modern video game community as well as films, which have long been the subject of diligent categorization by devoted "buffs". Whatever you think of Western culture's trajectory in the coming years, you could do much, much worse than Otaku: Japan's Database Animals as a thoroughly educating and entertaining piece of work.

Albums From the Attic: Toy Matinee

If there is anything that the pop music industry can be counted on to produce with regularity, it is the unending stream of promising acts that are only ever discovered and appreciated long after their time has passed, fallen victim to a collective of reasons that must have been grouped up onto a "how to kill a great new band" bingo at the advent of the recording industry and enshrined as standard M.O. Anyone who has spent any amount of time following music, especially pop music, will have noticed how quickly the winds of fortune shift and doom a group to obscurity (XTC) or propel them to new heights (Pantera). In the case of Toy Matinee, an art rock/pop studio group led by a couple of songwriter/producer kingmakers, Kevin Gilbert and Patrick Leonard, (think Dr. Luke without the sexual assault stuff), the killing blow was dealt in a far more mundane, "death by a thousand cuts" style - crushing indifference upon release aside from some moderate radio success in LA. While Leonard would go on to a quietly successful career producing albums for Elton John, Leonard Cohen and many others, Gilbert would unfortunately pass away six years after this album's release, dissipating any hope for a follow up record.

Captained by Gilbert and Leonard and crewed by an assortment of their musician friends, Toy Matinee doesn't waste any time in tipping its hand and showing you what you're in for with "Last Plane Out", a lilting power-pop foot-tapper that gives a good reading of the group's blend of spot-on use of harmonies, meticulous studio workmanship (mostly thanks to Gilbert's unending tinkering) and a level of composition and writing that is simply a joy to experience. The record continues in such a confident, playful manner that you can't help getting carried along through highlights like "The Ballad of Jenny Ledge", "Turn It On Salvador", and the powerful closer "We Always Come Home". The mood is almost uniformly light and if there was ever an album that could be described as "joyous", it is Toy Matinee - every song bears evidence of enormous polish and it all comes off as so effortless that the band might as well be winking at you the whole way through. The production is warm and bright and the lyrics are a great mix of more out-there 60's material and straight-ahead emotional topics as the songs jump between usual pop fixations like relationships and family  as well as anti-war anthems and some unorthodox dedications: "Turn It On Salvador" was dedicated to the late Salvador Dali while "Queen of Misery" was written about Madonna, whom many members of the band worked with prior, and "Remember My Name", written in memory of Czech president Vaclav Havel. With a lean runtime just south of forty minutes, Toy Matinee is that rare album that gives much, much more than it takes and is more than worth seeking out for any fans of no-frills, high quality pop.

Neon Genesis Evangelion

I recently finished re-watching the original TV version of Neon Genesis Evangelion again. It's the first time I've seen the entire series end-to-end since the 3rd Rebuild of Evangelion film, You Can (Not) Redo, was released in 2012 as I figured it would make more sense to just continue waiting for the release of the final film in the tetralogy and go back to the OG 90's television anime which I have always liked more than the new movies for a few reasons (anther topic). What surprised me as I went through it is how potent it remained as an artistic statement, even after all these years and time spent watching it (this was my third or fourth time seeing the complete series). It was burned into my brain like a sunspot in my vision and despite having more than enough exposure to both the original series and the new films to see every twist and plot beat coming a mile away, it still manages to hit like a ton of bricks and for the longest time I wasn't exactly sure why (since this show is pretty much the archetypal over-analyzed work I'll try to keep this bried). Someone linked me this video and I think the creator hit on something that explained part of Neon Genesis Evangelions appeal: its relation to other forms of media as a work of pulp fiction. This got me thinking back to this video on the role of camp in the appeal of another favorite piece of fiction of mine, Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater. Like MGS3, NGE uses its foundation in pulp/campy genres (spy movies in the case of Metal Gear, giant mecha anime in the case of NGE) to disarm the viewer and lull them into a false sense of security with the familiar tropes of that particular genre, before sucker punching their audiences with uncharacteristically deep/intense emotional beats. Unlike Metal Gear Evangelion utilizes a lot of repetition and call-backs to previous scenes to highlight and reinforce those emotional bits, often in a darker light than previously conveyed. It's not exactly avante-garde but coupled with the noticeably repetitive score it combines to create a strange Pavlov's Dog scenario where relatively simple audio or visual cues inspire a strong emotional reaction.  It's probably pretty obvious as you're experiencing either of these works but somehow it took until just now to click for me.

Another aspect of Neon Genesis Evangelion that is likely memorable to many is its distinctive art direction paired with director Hideaki Anno's penchant for lingering still frames. Despite almost certainly being related to the fact that the production team was working with a rapidly dwindling budget the relatively quiet minimalism of some of these frames has always stood out to me as quite beautiful:

Note the two silhouettes at the bottom right having a conversation over this backdrop

Motion blur is frequently used along with present-day-staple cicada calls to evoke heat. Obviously looks better in motion :/

These are just a couple of shots that caught my eye in the last ten or so episodes - the show is chock full of evocative landmark shots like this. Again, not really Citizen Cane cinematography here but its all part of the vividly colored yet terribly bleak atmosphere of Evangelion. The final aspect of this show that I've always really appreciated is the sense of cumulative loss that builds throughout the series' arc that is actually reflected in the incidental background chatter. To be fair a good portion of it is total sci-fi military filler without any real impact on anything, there seems to have been a surprising amount of effort made to keep the timeline relatively constant and continuous. Battle damage on buildings/characters and environmental destruction from previous episodes is frequently mentioned or remarked on, and actually impacts how they respond to future challenges. For example, in one later episode one of the titular Evangelions (basically giant robots piloted by the main characters) loses an arm in a fight and when its forced back into battle in the next episode the forced to improvise with it because... it's still missing an arm. No bullshit timeskips to "1 week later" when everything is nice and fixed up which (for me at least) lends a sense of weight and reality to this universe. It would be interesting to know how much of this straight-line continuity was a result of conscientious work by the production staff or just a happy byproduct of the story continually evolving on an episode-by-episode basis, forcing the team to just work with whatever had been done up until that point without any funds or time for rewrites. Whatever the specific reasons, that sense of consequence contributes significantly to the shows appeal to me.

Regarding the "New Theatrical Edition" Evangelion films (currently numbering three, with the final fourth on the way): I'm withholding judgement. Up until the third one, You Can (Not) Redo I would've told you I didn't really care for them, and that still holds mostly true where the second film is concerned. The first one is fine but kind of a snooze, and I'm really not a fan of the overly-clean CG special effect-y look of them, but You Can (Not) Redo was like a blast of cool air on a sticky August night so I've got faith that Anno and his crew can pull off a compelling finale.