a 8A - Tuesday, January 18, 2011 The Michigan Daily - michigandaily.com 8A - Tuesday, January18, 2011 The Michigan Daily - michigandailycom " The kings of country Music isn't all about the lyrics Decemberists turn twangy on newest album, 'The King is Dead' By CASSIE BALFOUR DailyArts Writer The earnest harmonica that opens The Decemberists' latest album The King Is Dead will be jar- ring for listeners who witnessed the band's previous foray into expansive prog-rock. The This fiddle-heavy slice D - et of rootsy Americana is a departure for a band The King is Dead known for its puzzling C concept records (see The Hazards of Love). But The Decemberists embrace the ten- ants of alt-country and lead singer Colin Meloy ditches the dizzyingly literate lyrics in favor of sparser, more straightforward diction. The Decemberists have lightened up, and most of The Kingls Dead is a buoy- ant barn dance. "Rox in the Box" sounds like it was written in alow-lit, whiskey-saturated bar somewhere in Appalachian back-country with Meloy scribbling down lyrics like, "But while we're living here / Let's get this little one thing clear / There's plenty of men that die." It may be darker than the rest of the album, but has enough twangy fiddles to rouse barflies from their bour- bon-induced depression. The Decemberists strive for authentic- ity with "Calamity Song." The track is a joyful romp that spends the first 30 sec- onds building up tension with restrained guitars before bursting into a full-blown, down-home sing-along. Despite the folksy sounds, this track has Meloy demonstrat- ing his cultural literacy by crooning, "Hetty Green / Queen of supply-side bon- homie bone drab," (Google her - it just wouldn't be a Decemberists album without an obscure and outdated reference or two). "January Hymn" works as a transition between the band's penchant for melan- choly, rich epics and the alt-country sound that is pervasive on The King is Dead. The track is sonically atmospheric but still has the buttoned-up, classic feel of an Ameri- can standard. "Rise to Me" is another suc- cessful merging of the spectrum sounds in which the band dabbles. The song leans more country with its straining, moon- lit fiddle, as Meloy sings, "Big mountain, wide river / There's an ancient call / These tree trunks these stream beds / Leave our bellies full they sing out /I am gonna stand my ground." Echoing these country trap- pings is an eardrum-shattering harmonica that wails in the background. The Decemberists stumble a little with the dull rehash "This is Why We Fight" - a track that rumbles along without any of the charming folksiness listeners will come to expect from the newly twang-tinged band. However, the one thing Decemberists fans will miss is Meloy's grandiose storytelling. Though the band trimmed down the songs and infused them with a rural sensibility, devotees might be left pining for those overwrought epics. But this new Decemberists release actually finds the band scaling back on the bells and whistles. Although listeners may be wistful for Meloy's tall tales, this album is filled with country-themed yarns that are far more listenable than previ- ously bloated concept albums. The King is Dead is a record that conjures images of the American heartland without any of the cheesiness that plagues mainstream country. This is an album that doesn't demand too much of its listeners, but still has a lot of soul. I'm a big Prince fan. Recently, some- one asked what "Purple Rain" means, and I scoffed. And then I thought to myself: I guess I don't really know. Now, I've seen the film "Purple Rain" more than plenty of times. I've spent hours pouring through demos, boot- legs and live record- ings. I'm excited to find Prince cassettes, fan magazines and mentions in US Weekly. Ihave about 500 songs by him, JOE memorized maybe DIMUZIO a hundred and con- sistently listen to at least 20 per week. But "Purple Rain?" I don't listen to it much. I never second-guess it. It's popular, it's fun - untouchable. I can't think of the last time I listened to it all the way through. I don't need to. And the lyrics? Well, when it comes down to it, I don't really care. Thinking about it, I've come to realize that on the large part, with most pop music Ilisten to, lyrics are maybe the least important element to me. Some people claim to be "all about the lyrics," and I can't relate. That caveat usually follows rap fans, which is under- standable. But thinking about some of my favorite rap artists and albums, the lyrics are never the draw for me; it's usually the whole production. Digable Planets' Blowout Comb is one my favor- ite albums, but I probably couldn't rap more than a stanza of it. P.M. Dawn's The Bliss Album...?, Nas's Illmatic and De La Soul is Dead are others I love from start to finish, but the lyrics are only a part of the package. I'm not arguing that lyrics aren't important. They have to be taken on their own terms. You don't listen to pop music to hear poetry, you listen to hear pop music. But quantifying that satis- faction you get from listeningto lyrics, hearing words and music and "feeling" something is a bit harder to explain. I'll admit to having those embar- rassing moments of communion when a singer seems to be writing out your fantastic teenage romantic angst just for you. A song comes along, some words come out and it feels like somebody's playing some cruel or wonderful joke on your heart. Over the last year, I've become a huge disco fan. Disco's not exactly a genre built on lyrics, but lyrics are a huge part of what makes so many classic disco songs work. For the genre's early days as the music of an oppressed black, Hispanic and gay youth, it was all about escape. Lyrics in disco tunes can range from a single word to anthemic, wailing declarations of independence, romantic visions of paradise and an aching, end- less nostalgia for pleasure in the midst of incredible pain. They're another instrument, and often, the most important one of all. In Donald Byrd's "Love Has Come Around" (one of my favorites), Byrd repeats the title phrase so many times and reverbed so coldly, you'd think he's never been in love before. But on top of icy, massive piano and handclaps that sound like doors being slammed, those words get my blood, feet and heart pumping. But maybe that's me investing things into the music that aren't reallythere. And why should that be a problem? If we measure pop music's success on its ability to attract and compel a wide array of people with some simple melodies, rhythms and words, then lyr- ics should invite interpretations rather than shun them. When people pour over Beatles lyrics, with an ah-but-what-do- they-mean complex, then they'd prob- ably end up pretty bored. Drugs. Money. Sex. Nothing. The overall musical experience is worth a thousand words. Whether it's Leonard Cohen or Ke$ha, pop lyrics are more (and less) than words. They can play a role, tell a story or just rock the fuck out. In meta- phor and obscenity, Ican find it all ifI want to; no matter how poetic or con- trived. Lyrics can be as "important" as I want them to be, but I don't need nice n' dry, satisfying conclusions telling me how to think about a song. I have at least four separate, logical explanations for what "Purple Rain" "means." But in the end, I don't feel the need to waste my time with them. I knew what it was all about the first time I heard it. I felt it. How could the words mean anything else? Dimuzio is puzzling over the lyrics to- "Pachelbel's Canon." To help him out, e-mail him at shonenjo@umich.edu. "Dude, I thought you knew I was Canadian." 'Hornet' falls flat in 3-D 'Lights Out' shines *1 By TIMOTHY RABB Daily Arts Writer In the recent movie "Jackass 3D," the outright lack of 3-D imagery in all but a few scenes was disconcerting. The produc- ers lured us in with the promise of glamorous visuals for only five extra dollars, but the delivery was scant at best. Luck- The Green ily, the movie still gave Hornet us the hilarity we expect from the "Jackass" gang At Quality 16 with uniquely painful and Rave stunts and depraved tom- foolery. Columbia Even so, it raises the suspicion that perhaps the "3D" designation is a fallacy, consid- ering that many of the 3-D films that have followed "Avatar" and "How to Train Your Dragon" don't take full (or even partial) advantage of the resources at their dis- posal. Unfortunately, Seth Rogen's new adaption of "The Green Hornet" franchise is further proof of this bait-and-switch routine. "The Green Hornet" could be best described as a rip-off of the average Joe- turned-hero element of "Kick-Ass" coupled with the strained, affected dialogue of a bad improv comedy bit. The characters of a comedyshouldbejustasclosetotheiraudi- ence as those in a compelling drama, but it would prove an arduous (if not impossible) task to find a single characteristic in Britt Reid (Seth Rogen, "Pineapple Express") or Kato (Jay Chou, "True Legend") with which a sapient movie lover could identify. Britt is a millionaire playboy who hates his late father James - even in the wake of his death - for his unwavering commit- ment to integrity and his no-nonsense par- enting style. In lieu of running his newly inherited newspaper empire with the same degree of professionalism as his father, he decides to cause a violent stir in the under- belly of Los Angeles to give the news some panache. After forging an unlikely friendship with his father's former employee Kato, Britt creates a clever hero disguise and raises hell on the streets of LA with the goal of vilifying himself and giving his newspaper enticing fodder for reporting. In the process, he injures cops and destroys thousands of dollars worth of personal property, yet we're supposed to hail him as a hero when he later denies a bribe from a crooked official. Case in point: Comedy can stretch the boundaries of the believable, but the characters' motivations should at least have some sort of logical basis. Don't look for it here. Rogen's emphatic "I don't know what the hell's going on" routine works well in stoner flicks like "Pineapple Express" and "Superbad," but falls flat on its face here. He's a mediocre actor who's been fortu- nate enough to star in plot-driven movies that don't rely on acting chops so much as a bevy of action scenes and slapstick situa- tions. It brings to mind the "Family Guy" parody of Rogen: "The Seth Rogen gene gives you the appearance of being funny even though you haven't actually done any- thing funny." Granted, the movie isn't entirely trash. The cinematography shows some promise with unique shots and slow-motion fight scenes and there's an occasional good joke ("occasional" can't be stressed enough here). But the long lag time between spo- radic action scenes will give viewers a wel- come opportunity to tire and yawn. A good rule of thumb in light of the prec- The truth is, Seth Rogen only has two dimensions: weed and boner jokes. edent set by "Avatar" - don't see a movie in 3-D unless it's either animated or it mar- kets itself as a straight action film. Instead of spending Friday night watching man- children vacillate between awkwardly romancing girls and fighting among them- selves, save $15 and sit in a local dive bar. on in FX schedule. ByKAVI SHEKHAR PANDEY Senior Arts Editor FX needs to seriously consider chang- ing its network slogan from "FX has the movies" to "FX has the incredible origi- nal programming featuring badass Cau- casian men." With "The Shield," "Rescue Me," "Sons of Anarchy" and "Justified," the channel's trademark **-* is to develop dramas with tough hombres ughtsout for protagonists whose mere glare would make Pilot Don Draper pee his pants. "Lights Out" is Tuesdays at10 p.m. the latest addition that, FX based on its spectacu- lar pilot, will soon join the pantheon of great, gritty FX dramas. Let the boxing puns commence. The premise of "Lights Out" is a blend of "Breaking Bad" and "Rocky Balboa," and the familiarity of the plot is its only glaring flaw. The show features Patrick "Lights" Leary (Holt McCallany, "CSI: Miami") a former heavyweight boxing champion, who, in retirement, has found himself repeatedly against the ropes. Though Leary pretends to be content with his life as a stay-at-home dad - and in some ways, he is - the pilot of "Lights Out" unearths all of Leary's regrets and resentments in one fell swoop, bringing the once all-powerful giant to his knees. Poor financial investments have ripped a hole in Leary's bank account and gloomy medical diagnosis has left him with an uncertain future. Add to that the five-year anniversary of his humili- ating final fight, and the man who once considered himself invincible is now left utterly neutered, unable to provide for his family. Like Walter White in "Breaking Bad," Leary is then given a golden opportu- nity to solve all his problems - a boxing rematch with a $10 million payout. Con- sidering his health, familial obligations - his wife forced him to quit in the first place - and thirst for former glory, this is a decision that Leary will struggle to make, setting the stage for the rest of the season. McCallany's portrayal of Leary is a total knockout and essentially the reason why "Lights Out" brims with such tre- mendous potential. The greatness of the pilot involves seeing how much the char- acterization of Leary subverts expecta- tions. This Hulk of a man - supremely intimidating and vicious in the boxing ring - is shown to be a warm, caring, endearing man outside of it. But great shows like "Mad Men" don't entirely explain their protagonists immediately - layers are slowly peeled back throughout the season. "Lights Out" does the same, shrouding Leary in a ring of ambiguity. Questions run amok - it's unclear if Leary actually resents his wife for demanding his retirement. And most importantly, Leary's motivations are uncertain - does he really miss the action of his former career or is he only considering a comeback to support his family? Don't come to "Lights Out" expecting a lot of action - it's not a show about box- ing, but about a character who used to box. The show's violence is relegated to sudden, short flashbacks that are tightly Don Draper better look out - there's a new macho man of mystery in town. edited and highly effective. The main thrills of "Lights Out" come instead from observing Leary's interactions with his family - the most organic since "Friday Night Lights"-- and trying to understand his moral code. Is Leary going to beat the tar out of the drunken yuppie that disses him? Or will he just walk away? The pilot of "Lights Out" is a mag- nificent compilation of every element that makes great TV great. At once, it is a character study of a fascinating has- been, a highly entertaining hour of tele- vision (it's funny too!) and a love letter to a once-glorious, now mostly irrelevant sport. In an inarguable decision, "Lights Out" is already one of the best shows on television. WANT TO BAD-MOUTH THE GOLDENGLOBES? JOIN DAILY A MASS MEETING TOMORROW AT 7:30 P.M. AT 420 MAYNARD E-mail join.arts@umich.edu for more information or to apply.