RIYL: Throwing your money away

Word on the street is that Rush has parted ways with longtime label Atlantic to sign with Roadrunner, and with Working Men, Atlantic’s flogging of their slice of Rush’s catalog (the band signed with the label in 1989) has officially gone from ridiculous to hilarious. It’s a collection of tracks from the band’s live albums Rush in Rio, R30, and Snakes & Arrows Live, and since live albums are essentially a compilation of a band’s hits, that makes Working Men a one-CD compilation of two two-CD compilations and one three-CD compilation. In other words, this might be the most unnecessary album ever made, the Rush equivalent of those budget Super Hits compilations that clog the counters of the Gas ‘n Sips on the highway. There is one unreleased track, a version of “One Little Victory” from the R30 tour. But since “One Little Victory” appears on the Rush in Rio DVD and the R30 Blu-ray, the word “Unreleased” should come with an asterisk.

The performances of these songs, of course, are fantastic – though the audio on the DVD for the Rush in Rio and R30 tracks sounds positively awful – but chances are, if you’re a Rush fan, you own them already, and if you’re not, well, you’re not buying this album anyway. One of the more puzzling releases we’ve seen all year. (Anthem/Zoe/Rounder 2009)

Rush MySpace page

One of the best concert films of all time gets its hi-def due with this lovingly curated reissue “Stop Making Sense.” Directed by Jonathan Demme, “Sense” captures the Talking Heads at their squirrelly best, spasmodically jumping between new wave, funk, and arty Afro-pop with a crack band of ace sidemen that included Bernie Worrell, Alex Weir, and Lynn Mabry. The Talking Heads found their footing slowly, evolving from willfully experimental Rhode Island hipsters to a merry band of world music vagabonds, and Demme frames their journey with a stage setup that opens slowly; for the opening number, “Psycho Killer,” David Byrne comes out with nothing but his guitar and a boombox. He’s joined by bassist Tina Weymouth on the next number, they’re joined by Chris Frantz next, Jerry Harrison follows Frantz, and so on and so forth, until the whole entourage is under the lights, making the most joyously paranoid racket of the ‘80s.

The Blu-ray transfer doesn’t scrub every last scratch or speck of dust from the frame, but knowing the Talking Heads, that may very well have been intentional; in any case, it makes for fine viewing at 1080p, despite periodic minor problems with the picture, and the sound – presented here in a pair of DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 mixes that let the viewer choose between the equivalent of audience and soundboard recordings – more than makes up for any visual flaws. The special features include audio commentary from the band and director (everyone’s tracks separately recorded, natch), along with other bonus content ported over from the DVD version (bonus tracks, storyboards, a few minutes of Byrne interviewing himself), plus Blu-ray exclusive footage of the 1999 press conference that reunited the band for “Stop Making Sense’s” 15th anniversary screening. There’s a short list of concert films whose contents justify a $34.99 list price, regardless of format. This is one of them. (UMVD)

Click here to buy “Stop Making Sense”

Ah, now that’s more like it. The CD that Eagle issued last year of the Moody Blues’ performance at the 1970 Isle of Wight Festival was nice, but seeing the band in action makes a world of difference. Even better, they have rounded up four-fifths of the band for present-day interviews (flautist Ray Thomas retired in 2002) to discuss the show, and keyboardist Mike Pinder dusts off the Mellotron he played at the Isle of Wight show and gives a demonstration. (To give you kids some perspective on the unpredictability of the Mellotron, it’s a keyboard that literally plays loops of tape. Using one in a live show was gutsy, to say the least.) The DVD does not contain the full set that appears on the CD, but the big hits (”Tuesday Afternoon,” “Question,” “Nights in White Satin”) are all here, along with a montage of dozens of performances of “Ride My See Saw,” both in concert and for various television specials. The most amusing aspect of watching the band play live is how restricted singer/guitarist Justin Hayward and bassist John Lodge’s movements were by their gear; the cords that went from their guitars to the speakers were about five feet long. (Eagle Vision)

Click to buy The Moody Blues: Threshold of a Dream: Live at the Isle of Wight Festival

A movie about the art form of mash-ups that features mash-ups of the movie within the movie itself? We’re pretty sure we just heard the space/time continuum begin to rip at the prospect. Director Brett Gaylor attempts to make sense of the intellectual property laws that allow some musicians to steal riffs and make millions (Led Zeppelin, the Stones), while other, more cutting-edge musicians are branded as criminals (Girl Talk), and the end result is “Rip! A Remix Manifesto,” a wake-up call to Big Media that, whether they like or not, the rules have changed. Gaylor declares Walt Disney to be the first mash-up artist, and absolutely pummels publishing company Warner-Chappell for refusing to let “Happy Birthday” to enter the public domain (it’s true: if you sing that song, ever, you’re a thief), and for suing Radiohead fans for mash-ups once W-C acquired the rights to In Rainbows. Truth be told, the doc isn’t quite a five-star affair – we were frankly surprised that he didn’t mention when John Fogerty was sued for ripping off one of his own songs – but we’re giving it an extra star because “Rip!” addresses an issue that needs to be sorted out sooner rather than later. Indeed, one could argue that the music industry’s very survival depends on it. (Disinformation 2009)

Click to buy Rip! A Remix Manifesto

Strange that we would see two releases in the same year about Canadian rock bands that hit their commercial peak in the early ’80s but continue to soldier on, but the entertainment business is funny like that (see: “Deep Impact” and “Armageddon”). However, the Kings, who owned Friday afternoon drive time on rock radio for years thanks to their bouncy “This Beat Goes On/Switchin’ to Glide” and its “Nothing matters but the weekend” battle cry, did not assemble “Anatomy of a One-Hit Wonder” to inspire sympathy; rather, this collection of the band’s music videos and live performances, combined with a 40-minute documentary of the band members describing the origins of “Beat/Switchin’,” is a sweet love letter to both its fans and even casual admirers of their big hit. Singer Dave Diamond, who at times recalls Martin Short, does most of the talking (though that is likely because guitarist John Picard, a.k.a. Mr. Zero, is shooting the interviews), and he’s refreshingly aware of the Kings’ place in the grand scheme of things; when he talks about working with mega-producer Bob Ezrin (just after he finished The Wall, no less) or appearing on “American Bandstand,” he’s not sticking his chest out as he does so, thank goodness. The interview footage is admittedly not professional quality (Zero financed the movie himself, shooting and editing it over a three-year period), but no one buying this video is looking for slick production. In fact, the DVD is worth purchasing for the opening clip alone, where Zero splices footage from dozens of performances of the band’s big hit and creates one monster performance video. Good for them for seeing this video through to its completion. Now, if you’ll politely oblige, your presence is requested by Diamond and Zero in the Mercedes. (Dizzy Records 2009)

Click to buy The Kings: Anatomy of a One-Hit Wonder

A definite step above the other unauthorized biographies in Sexy Intellectual’s catalog but not yet on par with the Classic Albums series, this look at the metamorphosis of Depeche Mode from cult electronic act to one of the biggest bands in the world makes one hell of an argument for the band as a worthy inductee into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Featuring interviews with several of the band’s producers (Gareth Jones, Dave Bascombe, Daniel Miller) and electronic peers (Thomas Dolby, Gary Numan, OMD’s Andy McCluskey), the documentary focuses on the band’s rather gutsy decision to explore darker territory, beginning with 1986’s Black Celebration and ending with 1993’s Songs of Faith and Devotion, by which time the band was topping the US charts. The claim that the documentary features interviews with the band members is a tad dishonest, as they merely include clips from the short films that Mute assembled for the reissues of the band’s catalog in 2006 (and only one clip per member at that). They also gloss over the reasons behind Alan Wilder’s departure from the band, a move from which the band has only recently begun to recover. However, there is enough here that will thrill fans of the band in particular and of electronic music in general. Who knew that Andrew Fletcher was a fan of heavy metal? (Sexy Intellectual 2009)

Click here to buy Depeche Mode: The Dark Progression

Of all the reunions pianist Chick Corea has participated in over the past few years, last year’s resurrection of the classic Return to Forever lineup – Corea, guitarist Al DiMeola, bassist Stanley Clarke and drummer Lenny White – turned out to be the most musically rewarding. The guys play as if it were still 1976, and Corea even took a vintage Rhodes to the stage to keep it authentic. If anything, the group is even better now with age and wisdom – DiMeola’s guitar runs sparkle with soul, Clarke’s and White’s rhythms are even earthier now, and in spite of these musicians having so distinctly honed their identities over time, Chick is still the masterful glue that keeps it all together. Though known mostly for their electric work, RTF’s acoustic side is on display for almost half of Live at Montreux, with Chick’s solo improvisation before “The Romantic Warrior” (with Clarke and White as a straight-ahead trio) proving that RTF, for all their fusion tendencies, were always, deep down, a jazz band. (Eagle Rock Entertainment 2009)

Return to Forever MySpace page

Better than the 2003 collection that bears his name, this michelgondry.com-exclusive set of music videos is simply staggering. The beauty of Gondry’s work is that his methods are surprisingly low-tech (Beck’s “Cellphone’s Dead” being this set’s exception). He uses reflective glass to create the ghosts that haunt Paul McCartney’s house in “Dance Tonight,” and Steriogram’s “Walkie Talkie Man” is a brilliant stop-motion clip, using both real people and their string equivalents. Gondry assembles a couple of clever yet completely unique one-take videos with Michael Andrews and Gary Jules’ cover of “Mad World” and the White Stripes’ “The Denial Twist,” and his videos from the pre-CGI early ’90s, namely Thomas Dolby’s “Close but No Cigar” and Sananda Maitreya’s “She Kissed Me” (otherwise known as Terence Trend D’Arby to your older brothers and sisters), look as good as any video made today. The set comes with a bunch of behind-the-scenes footage, a couple films featuring Gondry solving a Rubik’s Cube with various parts of his body (feet and nose, to be precise), and they also added the parody of Gondry’s video of the White Stripes’ “The Hardest Button to Button” that appeared on a 2006 episode of “The Simpsons.” Genius stuff, across the board. If only he could replicate this consistency in the feature film arena.(ElektroFilm)

Click here to buy “Michel Gondry 2: More Videos Before and After DVD 1

Twisted Sister may be best remembered for that hilarious video for “I Wanna Rock,” in which some mullet-wearing kid declares just that to his bow-tie sporting teacher and winds up banging heads with the band. But the band has a deeper history than that, and it began in the ‘70’s as Twisted Sister rocked clubs, amusement parks and radio airwaves until that record deal could not be kept from them. They used an anti-disco stance in their early years, but mostly they just rocked with a live fury few bands could ever equal. Of course, the band is still together and Snider is still a wild front man, but if you can’t see them live, at least you can check out something like Live at the Astoria, recorded in 2004 at the famed London theater, with a companion DVD. The band agrees to a man that this was one of their greatest shows ever, and who can argue with them? The only problem is that shows like this just never quite translate to CD or even DVD the way they do to actually being there. Still, you can’t fault Twisted Sister for that. The songs are as explosive as ever, right from the start of “What You Don’t Know (Sure Can Hurt You)” to their big hit “Under the Blade” to some of their lesser-known anthems such as “The Price.” Of course, no Twisted Sister show would be complete without “S.M.F,” which stands for “Sick Mother Fucker” and is Snider-speak for, well, being a non-conformist. And what doesn’t say “R-O-C-K” like that? (DVE 2008)

Twisted Sister MySpace Page

If you’ve already purchased the Paul Simon “Live at the Tower Theatre” DVD that was released in 2003, then there’s no need to bother with “Live from Philadelphia,” because it’s exactly the same concert, transferred from grainy video footage to present the same truncated 10/7/80 show – something Eagle really should have done a better job of making clear on this “new” title’s packaging. If, however, you don’t own “Tower Theatre,” and don’t mind suffering through the vagaries of the poorly aged footage, then “Live from Philadelphia” isn’t a bad way to spend $10. For one thing, Simon was touring with a terrific band: Steve Gadd on drums, Tony Levin on bass, Richard Tee on keyboards, and Eric Gale on guitar, offering the same New York-spun mellow urban vibe that typified Simon’s recordings of the era. For another thing, Simon – usually not the most scintillating live performer – was in high spirits during this show, stopping to interact with the audience a time or two (at one point, he even tells someone whose view he suspects may be obstructed to just come down and stand in front of the stage, joking that he isn’t sure whether it’s against the rules, but “it’s okay with me”). The set list might dwell a little too heavily on One Trick Pony for some, and it certainly doesn’t include any must-hear versions of the 11 songs presented here, but it does provide a glimpse of Simon during a time when he was beginning what was to become a decades-long struggle to redefine himself, the performances are uniformly tight, and the price is right. Just make sure you don’t already own it.

Click to buy “Paul Simon: Live from Philadelphia”