0 Page 8 -The Michigan Daily -Tuesday, February 13, 1990 Thick as a brick Maumee's dearest Hard to Kill dir. Bruce Malmuth BY MIKE KUNIAVSKY Some people think there's not enough violence in the world today. Manson, DeKlerk, Bush, Seagal. Seagal? That's Steven Seagal (pronounced say-gall). As the heir- apparent to the aging mus- cle/karate/killing-machine guys of the post-Vietnam '70s and the Rea- gan '80s, he follows in the steps of Lee and Norris: fighting like a mas- ter and acting like a brick. He even married actor/model Kelly LeBrock, his current co-star, so that people would wonder what kind of disgust- ingly athletic sex they have. As one would expect, the plot of the film is not too original. The best cop on the force, Mason Storm, dis- covers a political plot in 1983; he is found out by some crooked cops who then have a hit put on him. After being shot a bunch of times and taking out a couple of their com- rades, the bad guys leave him for dead. Of course he isn't. Seven years later ("today," as the saying goes) he comes out of a coma to find that he's been hidden away for the whole time in a coma center as "John Doe." Pre- siding over his ward is a beautiful, single and lustful Andy Stewart (Le Brock) who monitors his hearbeat and hopes that he will come out of his coma because he has a large pe- nis (this is revealed in a touching scene where she lifts his covers and says something to the effect of "oh, I wish you'd wake up, you have so much to live for"). Now that Storm's awake, his enemies discover his whereabouts and decide to have him rubbed out for good. But Mason Storm is no wussie, and even with his muscles atrophied he manages to Out of the great rock oasis of Maumee, Ohio (perhaps it's a code name for the much-publicized Seattle. No one really knows) comes another of those bands that thrive on all the havoc a wah-wah pedal can wreak. With Andrew Wendler (another bastard child of that tree town metal gem Necros) on guitar, Gone in Sixty Seconds descend on the Pig tonight with all the fury of said establishment's previous Tuesday night thrash bash features. Greenhouse opens up the set. Doors open at 9:30; cover is a mere $4. And yes, that guy second from the left does look like one of the Ramones. We're just not sure if it's Dee Dee or Joey. EVERYBODY' Continued from page 7 succeed in making her a total mess. Director Karel Reisz (Isadora) fails to save Miller, who seems to have been trying to make some great comment on the purifying effect of truth and confessions. The entire drug plot becomes even more ludi- crous when it is revealed that Winger has ties to the local prosecuting at- torney, who just happens to be an old rival of Tom's, and who, by the way, is completely corrupt, along The fact that he's the top cop in the business is not the only reason Mason Storm (Steven Seagal) is able to attract Andy Stewart (Kelly LeBrock). The real clincher is that big ah,um... gun he has. Yeah, that's it. with the rest of the city government, and has framed the kid in the first place. This is all supposed to be tak- ing place in a small town in Con- necticut. Weird things can happen in small towns (see Blue Velvet), but the events must be revealed to us in a sensible way. In Everybody Wins, most of the plot is brought out by one character telling another about some event that happened in the past. This just isn't enough to make us care. EVERYBODY WINS is playing at Fox Village and Showcase. BOOKS Continued from page 7 weigh it down. It keeps the story moving most of the time, pulling the reader through the expected, but using flashbacks and scene changes in a way to make it all unexpected. This all adds together to make an ex- cellent horror novel. Barker uses the conventions of the genre beautifully, but unfortunately never overcomes them, and, in the end, produces only an excellent horror novel, not just an excellent novel. I -Antonio Roque singlehandedly avoid capture by the hitman and get Stewart to take him to her pad, a luxurious, out-of-the- way mansion with a fully equipped gym. Here, he manges to avoid de- tection for an indeterminate period of time (a Rocky-esque guitar solo montage compresses it) while he works himself back into shape. Of course, the bad guys eventually track him down and he kills them. All of them, of course. All this would be tolerable, even okay (Tango and Cash is about at the same level of intelligence, but a lot more enjoyable) if all of the bad guys weren't Latino. I know that Latinos haven't been widely stereo- typed by Hollywood in a while, but this isn't something that director Bruce Malmuth should strive to change. We've seen enough recent films where the great middle class caucasian couple must fight their way out of insurmountable obstacles placed by minority (i.e. Black, Latino, ethnic, female, and/or poor) evildoers. This is a disturbing trend, Hollywood schlock being a strong indicator of what the middle class youth of this country want, because it's no longer necessary - all of@ sudden - to invent enemies in dis- tant lands for the Rambos and Co- All this would be tolerable, even okay (Tango and Cash is about at the same level of intelligence, but a lot more enjoyable) if all of the bad guys weren't Latino. nans to fight. It's okay to find ene- mies in your own front yard. In one ironic scene, two Latino; stereotypes plot to kill Storm while a Do the Right Thing billboard looms behind them. I don't know whether; Malmuth has seen DtRT, but I think it's about time. HARD TO KILL is playing at Fox' Village and Showcase. Passion Fodder Woke Up This Morning Beggar's Banquet America sucks! It destroys indi- viduality by "walking all over our faces," denies the intrinsic human worth and dignity of Latin American people with the invasion of "Los Cuatro Generales," and forces its cul- ture down the throats of its European allies. This is the view of American ex- patriate Theo Hakola and his band, Passion Fodder. They use American roots music - country, blues, and folk - as the basis for their tirade against American culture. These uniquely American idioms are used in much the same way that the U.S. government uses the term "democracy." The music is separated from-its original intentions; it cele- brates nothing, instead it wallows in anger and despair. Their music is parched and raw, barren and' malig- nant.. These American genres are ulti- mately subverted by a European con- sciousness: blues progressions are turned upside down with the addition of avant-garde rhythms and minimal- ist violin, and the folktale lovers Frankie and Johnny are turned into Bertolt and Marieluise. Hakola hurls invective at society in a voice that sounds like a combi- nation of Gordon Gano, Fred Schneider, and Lux Interior. Like his music, Hakola's voice is unpleasant, at times even painful, because, like Bertolt, he believes in the alienation effect. Everything on Woke Up This Morning has been displaced; the music is removed from its context, Vegas is Hell, and baseball is being played in France. - Peter Shapiro Happy Mondays Madchester Rave On EP Factory U.K. Poor old Sam Beckett is dead and gone, but I'm sure if he were here, it would soon be agreed over a pint of Guinness that the crack is good with the Happy Mondays. Hardcore hedonists to the end, the Mondays couldn't give a toss about the gentri- fication of popular moozik. Fuelled by designer drug Ecstasy and lots of lager, the Mondays are at this moment funkier than James Brown's prison cell, which is to say, quite funky indeed. Along with fel- low Manchester lads and drinking mates the Stone Roses, they've dominated the British pop press for the last few 'months: the Stone Mondays invite you to put on your sweat top and flared jeans (22 inch flares are de rigeur) and get on up. "Hallelujah" is the record's power track, a non-denominational foot- stomper that rejoices in bricolage ("Hallelujah! Hallelujah! We'll take a bit of this and that") amongst other things. With a dance rhythm and swirling, edgy guitar, lead singer Shaun Ryder acts as shouting toast- master over producer Martin Han- nett's (Joy Division) dense produc- tion. The remix charges up the beat with a Latin keyboard arrangement as well as a sampled choirboy. . "Clap your Hands" and "Holy Ghost" move along gingerly and quite satisfactorily, but "Rave On" is stunning. The Red Hot Chili Pep- pers would kill for a bass groove as any to start. The keyboard-less Seattle quartet plays kick-ass guitar music created solely by them but definitely aware of all kinds of six- string styles from the '50s to 1989. Underneath the guitar swirl lives a rhythm section one could describe as almost funky, in a grand sort of long-hair early '70s manner. Mud- honey tuneage brings to mind good sex, as tense, controlled workouts break out into frenetic bursts of en- ergy; that is, when they aren't sim- ply explosive from start to finish. If you have heard Mudhoney be- fore you already know all this. The enticing promise of a full-length Su- perfuzz Bigmuff has been delivered. Mark Arm's powerful lungs are still healthy and the focus of their songs remain where the thoughts of the Me Out" is the works as regards full horn arrangement, totally incompre- hensible lyrics about former scien- tists, and maximum bass. "Tell Me That I'm Dreaming" is the group's reaction to Ronnie Reagan's first few months in office, back in the days when the Iran hostage crisis was the main issue testing his feeble synapses. Was (Not Was) samples Ronnie saying, "Can we who man the ship of state deny it is somewhat out of control." The Was brothers take the master of the nautical metaphor to the absurdist (very) end. Kid Creole & the Coconuts are on sprightly form in the shape of 1981's "Table Manners." But their piece de resistance is "Annie, I'm Not Your Daddy," which features the Coconuts singing "Ono-ono-ono- matopeia" in the background. The Waitresses, who sounded like Blondie on valium, pour on the en- nui for their flip teaser "I Know What Boys Like;" their moving and bodacious seasonal classic "Christmas Wrapping" is one of the few X-mas songs that doesn't induce spontaneous vomiting in this pop hack. Christina turns on the camp fac- tor in her "Disco Clone" (featuring Kevin Kline on macho spoken vo- cals) and then indulges in the perfect banality of "The Lie of Love." Christina is the nightmare sleaze lounge singer who's out for revenge; her cynicism will have you on your knees. It's a shame her near-mythical rendition of the Lieber & Stoller- penned Peggy Lee classic "Is That All There Is?" is missing from Zet- rospective. Peggy Lee's version is pretty disillusioned, but Lieber and Stoller threatened to sue Ze after they heard the slightly changed, even more self-defeating lyrics of Christina's S & M-tinted version. Zetrospective has the mis- chievous spirit of a record label that always thought "formula" was a dirty word. Zilkha's roster of artists has now moved far and wide to other labels, but what ever happened to him? -Nabeel Zuberi Jungle Brothers Done By the Forces of Nature Warner Bros. If De La Soul could be considered the Beatles of rap, then the Jungle Brothers must be its Steely Dan: vaguely spiritual, almost mystical lyrics, undeniably mellowing Trfnop 17i'7U urrne ind cnn ld- Yeah, they do look kind of wimpy but this minor setback has not deterred the members of Passion Fodder from issuing a hearty "fuck off" to the land of the stars and stripes and its clouded perception of democracy. half as dirty as this. For the remix the Mondays lift the guitar line from the O'Jays' "For the Love of Money." Shameless plagiarists with a nice line in misquotation and dis- tortion, the Happy Mondays are ones to watch. Pop music needs more of their kind to give it a well-needed kick up the backside. --Nabeel Zuberi Mudhoney Mudhoney Sub-Pop At this point in the continuing saga of using the electric guitar to entertain folks, it's fairly difficult to play the instrument without some- one like me claiming "'60s rip-off' or "(insert-hip-band-here) clone." To avoid this, bands can attempt to push the experimental envelope furthur out there (a crowded place) or th.v mnv ei, cm-or..-i wmn Win original '60s punks were - the crotch. It's been said that Sub-Pop bands start to sound alike after awhile, and only so many bands can actually achieve Total Fucking Godhead. The best way to decide for yourself is to get a hold of the Sub Pop 200 com- pilation and pick out which vocalist (and to a lesser extent which bassist) moves you the most. On that collec- tion, Mudhoney's non-campy, non- kitschy, non-quirky, flat-out power- ful version of "The Rose" (yes, the song by the Divine Miss Midler) will show you why Mudhoney is the cream of the Sub-Pop crop. -Brian Jarvinen Various Artists Zetrospective: Dancing in the Face of Adversity/Hope Springs Eternal Ze/Island TndI and Thnnri- dAd 1n r0nA 7. "The city's a jungle, and we are the brothers," the three JBs chant on "Beyond This World," "... this so- called king of the jungle... will run for cover." Could it be that behind the dashikis, peace signs and mysti- cism, the JBs brood and wait for a violent revolution, like their unsta- ble contemporaries Public Enemy, or the inflammatory NWA? Read on. Throughout hip hop/funk's his- tory, the most exciting acts were al- ways those that coaxed exquisite sounds out of their instruments: Newcleus, Afrika Bambaataa and the Soulsonic Force, War, the Gap Band, and, just recently, De La Soul. The Jungle Brothers - Mike G, Sammy B, Afrika Babybam, and Chris -raise the standards set by De La for aural abstraction a par or two, employing a Public Enemy- style barrage of sounds and voices layered over one another. Never has the juxtaposition of sampling been utilized in such a way. PE attacked your id, forcing you to form a toler- ance to their noise. The JBs use a more provocative method, by creep- ing up on you. Their music is com- paratively non-violent, if anything. With the ample assistance of D.J. Red Alert in the studio, the Brothers have produced easily the most com- prehensive rap album to date. Of the sixteen tracks on the record, all are developed, thematic tracks, each of* an independent strength, far from the fat that insulates many of the recent releases in rap. There are many standouts on the LP, including the Afrobeat/rap fu- sion of "Sunshine," "Tribe Vibes," and "Good News Comin'." all stun- sometimes typifies the genre. "The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice," Mike sez. Ain't it the truth. Perfect Moment #2: "Acknowledge Your Own History" -KRS never said it so well. When listening, every B-Boy should ques- tion his Le Coq Sportifs at least for a second, because momentarily, the red, black and green looks infinitely* better than the red, white and blue. Perfect Moment #3: "J. Beez Comin' Through" - This pick is pretty self-indulgent, to be perfectly honest. The "jock yourself" rap is older than Kurtis Blow but, once again, the method is wonderfully dif- ferent. During the bridge, the Steve Miller band sings melody while the original - James Brown - chants "the JBs," over and over again. This is mantra to live for: "jungle/ the brothers/ jungle/ the brothers" is at once as exciting as any Greek stepshow, more inspiring than a thousand national anthems, and easily less narcissistic than LL Cool J's entire catalog. Sampling-wise, the Forces of Nature is one more step up in the natural evolution. It's as dense, if not more so, as 3 Feet High and Ris- ing. Seemingly hundreds of R&B/funk voices and grooves have been packed into the record, and disc guised into relative obscurity, next to ska-flavored horns; bebop basslines, tribal chants, sponta- neously abrupt drum fills and sax lines. Lyrically, references to the rapture (term for the Second Com- ing) abound, right next to the vin- dicative sving "an eve for n eve. A