Showing posts with label Friends don't waste wine when there's words to sell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends don't waste wine when there's words to sell. Show all posts

Monday, December 17, 2007

WDR Reunites!


This week will mark the reunion of the entirety of the WDR team for the first time since our epic Road Trip in August. Much has changed since then. Mr. Zhuang has taken up the sport of Jai Alai, using his skills to earn a living as he explores the epic territory that is Upper-Northwest Nebraska. Joe Reefer has become a vital member of the group Puppetry Of The Penis, showing that he can make productive use of his organ beyond leaving a litter of kids everywhere he lands.

As for myself, I have taken up and quit several jobs as I've attempted to find myself, but I have to admit it's taken me to some pretty weird places. As it stands, I'm now interning for a law firm that is taking depositions for a potential class-action lawsuit by Santa's elves. At least I was told they were Santa's elves...they could have been Malaysian sweatshop workers. I'm not really paying attention. I'm more concerned about catching the next repeat of "120 Minutes" on VH1 Classic, to tell you the truth.

But enough with the past. Here's to the future, as we will commence with the festivities on Wednesday night as we make an appearance at the Dandy Warhols annual Hometown Christmas Concert Spectacular. We are prepared to hear the best version of "Little Drummer Boy" we'll hear all year, and then go out drinking.

Because that's what we do. We're totally original like that.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Always Read The Fine Print


The fine print on advertisements has always been a ripe subject for hacky comedians, which means that it's a topic that is right up WDR's alley. But we're not going to do a bit on how "it's so tiny, how do they expect us to read this?". Or make fun of the various side-effects that they list in those pharmaceutical ads ("boy, I would think getting explosive diarrhea kind of negates the decrease in my social anxiety! Thanks Paxil!)? Especially now, considering that they apparently have to state all the harmful possibilities at the exact same volume as the rest of the pitch, leading to ad companies trying to come up with creative new ways to account for this, like the one ad for the birth-control pill that is the same name as a famous Red Sox All-Star that conveniently has the friend also be some sort of physician. No, we're here to point out the utter ridiculousness of the substance of the fine print. Is this different? No, but we don't get paid to be better than that.

1). Fictionalized Scene There's a Dodge commercial that begins with what appears to be wine swirling around in a glass. You're thinking, hey, that Pinot Gris would really go great with that trout I'm fixing tonight (or that Lean Cuisine Lasagna that you're actually microwaving). But wait! There's a twist! The camera pulls out, and we see what is actually dispensing the slightly-colored liquid. Tis not a winebottle, tis a gaspump nozzle! Oh, the situational irony!



And once we get the shot that reveals the nozzle, we get the aforementioned fine print (the part that we put in bold, minus the numeral). And there is only one question to ask about this: Why??!???! Would it be so scandalous if there was actually a nozzle dispensing gasoline? Is this too saucy for us to see, the real gasoline instead of a similar-looking liquid?

That doesn't beat this gem, however...

2). The Way VERAMYST works is not entirely understood. I just saw a commercial for MiracleDrug (TM) VERAMYST last night, and saw that line appear in the middle of the commercial. I don't know whether to laugh, or be frightened. I would assume that this drug is FDA-approved, and has gone through years and years of rigorous testing. Yet they're not sure how the hell it works? I always said you can never trust someone with a so-called Doctor's License!

This is so strangely reminiscent of the Happy Fun Ball that I'm almost afraid to inquire further--is it alien technology, or just magic? If it was either of those, couldn't we have done something better than allergy medication. I still want a hovercar, dammit.



Heed the warning of the Happy Fun Ball

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Is Paul Banks Really A Bad Lyricist?

A perfect time to reflect, considering the brand new Interpol album comes out today. IN FACT, I just bought it an hour ago and ripped it a few minutes ago. I should be able to render the definitive verdict by the weekend, though I imagine that considering this album is one that everyone around the offices of WDR is anticipating, we might get a veritable plethora of opinions about it (and no, "plethora" has not lost its luster--it's close to being overused, but it's not quite there yet).

The inspiration for this post came from a recent article in The A.V. Club, a publication I hold in high regard. It's actually a hilarious piece of work, in which Josh Modell asks the reader to pick out the fake Interpol lyric. He does a brilliant job with it, creating false lyrics that are spot-on in capturing the Interpol style (I especially loved "You're a fox, but not the foxy kind"). But the whole endeavor made me feel a bit uneasy, as I feel that Interpol wasn't getting a fair shake.

I found another article which straight-up calls out Interpol for their bad lyrics. Yet I feel that in this case the author just simply was unable to understand the point of them. Perhaps an explanation is in order (key: they're mainly about sex).

I am usually not one to analyze or defend lyrics--as a musician who can't sing, my primary focus has always been on the music, and when vocals are considered, it is in relation to how they fit with the overall sound. I've written about my relationship with lyrics before, and in the future I'll reprint my original column on the subject as a whole. The point is, I will never claim to be an expert when it comes to lyrics.

The question remains, though: are Interpol's lyrics really worthy of such snide derision?



Take for example the line cited in the lede in the original story--"Her love's a pony". Reading the line itself standing alone, it seems absolutely ridiculous. Actually, when you first hear the line in the song it sounds ridiculous as well. In context, it flows much better. The entire song ("Leif Erikson") is about a relationship in which the individuals attempt to connect, but keep failing to do so. The song is filled with brilliant couplets that explain each side of the relationship:

She swears I'm a slave to the details
but if you're life is such a big joke, why should I care?

There is an attempt at communication, but we still have conflict due to philosphical differences (yes that was wordy and needlessly pedantic, but I felt I needed an explanation of some sort). Communication is the key: "It's like learning a new language...helps me catch up on my mime". There is the awkward stage of getting to know each other, but they're making the attempt.

As for the line in question, "her love's a pony", it's presented in direct contrast to "my love's subliminal". Her love is something tangible and concrete, but ultimately fleeting, while his is a more subtle love that is difficult to grasp. It seems awkward, but that is the point--this is not a comfortable relationship. But combined with the music, it's a damn good song.

The thing with Interpol lyrics, they often entail being deliberately absurd. But the absurdity itself is directly tied to the meaning of the song. "Roland" is an example of this. We have random lines about the narrator's friend Roland, how he was a butcher with 16 knives oh look it stopped snowing and how he's from Poland um he has a beard. With this shaky delivery filled with random non sequitors, Paul gives us a portrait of confused narrator. Listening to the rest of the song, it seems that the narrator is being interrogated about his relationship with Roland and his knowledge of the crimes he committed, so this device gives us a clue into his state of mind without directly stating the obvious. It also is a perfect complement to the jittery music that can't sit still.



Or when Paul sings in "Obstacle 1" that "Her stories are boring and stuff", there is deliberate emphasis on the fact that he can't really think of anything else to say, and it makes the accusation all the more vindictive. It's the effortless carelessness that The Strokes have always tried desperately to convey (with varying success), done in just a single line.

Everyone attempts to rip Interpol by pointing out these strange proclamations that are prevalent in their work, but they also don't take the time to acknowledge some of the truly great lyrics that they have done. "Slow Hands" and "Evil" are both great examples, and though they are well-known songs their lyrics are overlooked.

I submit my incentive is romance
I watched the pole dance of the stars

I just love the poetic and erotic imagery used here, especially in conjunction with the extremely proper attempt at courtship. And yes "You make me want to pick up a guitar/and celebrate the myriad ways that I love you" is direct and to the point, but it captures the romantic sentiment perfectly. "Evil" on the other hand deserves accolades for its ability to blend the story of a guy trying to come to grips with the love triangle he's created himself with imagery that is directly evocative of The Stranger (the beach, the trial and cell, and the general attitude of the narrator are all consistent with this).

But my heart is with two different lyrics that capture the two overlooked aspects of Interpol's personality: their humor and their occasional earnestness. "I cannot control the part of me that swells up when you move into my airspace" from "Say Hello to the Angels" is the best description of the unanticipated hard-on ever written (beating out Next's hilarious song "Too Close"--"you're making it hard for me!"). Now contrast that with the opening lines from "NYC":

I had seven faces; thought I knew which one to wear
I'm sick of spending these lonely nights training myself not to care

This perfectly captures the spirit of depression and the attempts to self-regulate one's behavior. By capturing the absolute despair of the moment, it makes the proclamation that "it's up to me now to turn on the bright lights" and that there's "got to be more change in my life" all the more poignant, with one not entirely sure if these proclamations are empty or not.



Well, that's my defense of Paul Banks and his lyrics. I think Interpol's musical bona fides are airtight--it's deceptively simple, but the interplay between all four elements (vocals, guitars, bass, and drums) are incredibly complex, and they deliberately subvert song structure without anyone really noticing. And if you believe that Paul's voice is merely a monotone, it's a case of being merely a superficial listener. It changes with different emotions and is capable of amazing melodies if you listen closely. This is usually the case when you have a unique sounding singer, like John McCrea from Cake who actually sings notes, though it's not immediately obvious. Compare this to "Mr. Brightside" from the Killers, which is actually just one note (seriously, listen to it--once you realize this, the song is ruined). The same can be said for Interpol's music in general, but this misses the subtlety that is often employed--yes they have a certain style, but they're exploring every inch that the style allows. I don't want to hear Interpol do their own version of "Run To The Hills".

Anyways, I leave you with this nugget: the strange video to Interpol's latest single, The Heinrich Maneuver. Enjoy.