2008-06 Vital Source Mag – June 2008
Skybombers
What is it about Australian hard rock bands and aviation references? The Screaming Jets in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s? Jet (the non-screaming kind, apparently) in the aughts? Now Melbourne’s Skybombers, a band of fresh-faced recent high school grads, are playing a brand of hard-edged power-pop on their debut full-length, Take Me to Town. The sound is what you might expect from kids their age — tight and well-executed, but with an unsurprising lack of a unique and singular voice, betraying their youthful inexperience. Make no mistake: they’re hitting the right touchstones — a sprinkle of The Who here, a liberal dash of Cheap Trick there — and the performances are solid. Producer Rick Parker (Von Bondies, Dandy Warhols) has done a heck of a job polishing these guys into a well-oiled, no-frills garage-pop steam engine. The opening-chord gut punch of “On + On” is an attention-grabber, and the instant hooks provided in, well, just about every song hold onto that attention with the stubbornness of a clamped-down pit bull (or, to make that simile more Australian, a dingo chomping on the baby it’s stealing). Still, the album rocks less in an “ohmigod they sound like Cheap Trick!” way and more in an “if I want to listen to Cheap Trick, I’ll listen to Cheap Trick” way. Give these kids a few more years, a few more tours and a few more records in their collection, and they could become a blisteringly original act. For now, though, they remain catchy, solid, fun, and downright forgettable. You’ll hum along during the first spin, but five minutes later you’ll be reaching for your copy of In Color.
Jun 1st, 2008 by DJ Hostettler
Green Bay godfathers and hockey-playing chimps
By now, you’ve probably heard how Wisconsin is destined to become the next great film capital of the world, which it isn’t, and how everyone from the Coen brothers to the rotting, re-animated corpse of D.W. Griffith will be falling all over themselves just for the privilege of filming here, which they won’t. The truth is this: the recently passed Film Wisconsin tax incentive bill will have a long-lasting, detrimental effect that will further tarnish our already-sketchy national reputation (and in a state that’s produced both Jeffrey Dahmer and the TMJ4 “Dirty Dining” team, that’s saying a lot). Before I go any further, I should make it perfectly clear that I’m not setting out to trash our many talented local filmmakers or ridicule the vibrant scene they’ve nurtured over the years. No, I’m here to warn against the legions of out-of-state filmmakers this tax break will attract, and the endless number of awful, awful movies they will almost certainly make in – and about – Wisconsin. Sure, a flick or two about Dillinger is fine for now, but let’s see how we feel after the umpteenth “Aren’t those backwater Midwesterners just so darn quirky!” movie comes down the pipe. Trust me; it’ll make the Bronze Fonze seem like a goddamned Frank Gehry concert hall. To illustrate this further, I recently immersed myself in two different types of films in order to find out which was more unwatchable: movies made in and about Wisconsin, or movies about animals playing sports. My findings proved to be embarrassing, infuriating, and in at least two cases, downright adorable. So, if you, dear reader, have any interest in protecting the image of our fair state, read on, and take heed. THE GODFATHER OF GREEN BAY (2005, d. Pete Schwaba) Vs. AIR BUD: SEVENTH INNING FETCH (2002, d. Robert Vince) The Godfather of Green Bay is a horrible, horrible movie. I mean, it’s really horrible. In all my years as a discerning moviegoer, no film has filled me with such seething contempt for humanity, and yes, I’ve seen Garden State. When an appearance by Mark Borchardt is the least offensive thing about a movie, you know you’re in for a nightmare. Put lightly, GOGB is one of the worst movies ever made. Air Bud, on the other hand, was kind of fun. The list of cinematic crimes GOGB commits is unforgivable: one, it’s about stand-up comics; two, its insights into Wisconsin go no deeper than “ya der hey” accents and frequent mentions of how the Bears, like, totally suck. The plot involves writer/director/star Schwaba – whose performance could give a piece of wet cardboard a run for its money – heading to Wisconsin for a Tonight Show audition, and falling in love with a clearly embarrassed Lauren Holly in the process. Oh, and there’s some sort of crime kingpin with a mullet. Who loves the Packers. And hates the Bears. Ha ha. The fact that Wisconsinites were actually entertained by this poorly made, shamelessly pandering barrel-scraper […]
Jun 1st, 2008 by Matt Wild
Every day’s a holiday
One Friday in the middle of May, my children woke themselves early and were in the kitchen, dressed and ready for breakfast, by 6:30. As I poured my coffee, delighted that we were more than a half an hour ahead of schedule, my youngest ran at me. He grabbed me tight around the middle and shouted, “Happy High Interest Day, Mama!” My middle daughter joined in the hug. “Happy High Interest Day, everybody!” The chatter at the table was light and fun and when it was time to leave for school, the kids raced to the car. The thrill in the air that day was due in equal part to two things. The first is obvious: my children love high interest day at their school. The idea of a whole day free to learn new sports, crafts and skills turns them on intellectually; they look forward to high interest day all year. The second may be less evident: we love holidays at our house, and are always looking for a way to have more of them. Holidays can be useful. No, really, they can! I have to admit, I’ve passed my preference for low-impact celebrations to the kids. Fourth of July and Halloween are our family favorites. Watching parades, cooking out, planning costumes and trick-or-treating have become tribe traditions, and the kids rely on knowing that the outline of these days is going to remain basically the same. As a matter of fact, we have built tribe traditions to celebrate almost every major holiday. These events give structure and a sense of ritual to the year, as they do for families all over the world. But created holidays are more spontaneous and just as joyful. They can also brighten almost any situation. Last winter a friend of ours decided to drive in from out of town for dinner and board games. The kids and I were excited for some levity in the middle of all that snow and cold. We planned the menu carefully and Lena helped me cook while Emma and Jeffrey “decorated” the table. About 30 minutes before she was due to arrive, she called to say that due to a series of setbacks, she was running late. She called back again a little while later; traffic was at a standstill and she wasn’t sure when it would be moving again. She encouraged us to eat without her. But the kids really wanted to wait for her, and were searching for a justification. We declared the day “European Dinner Day,” and had snacks until supper was served around 9:00 p.m. It’s not even hard The need to celebrate must be hardwired. Those months between Valentine’s Day and Easter often stretch out bleakly before us. A similar sense of emotional drag occurs between Easter and Memorial Day. Finding excuses to dress up, have a party or spend the day outside laughing with friends and family relieves the tension of day-to-day life. It can revitalize a sagging family morale, which […]
Jun 1st, 2008 by Lucky Tomaszek
Gone Fishing
Photos by Erin Landry Summer is never so sweet as it is after a crushing winter. So it’s time to pull out the fishing rod and relax to the tune of water lapping at the shore. Here are two easy fish and shrimp dishes for your catch – with a cocktail to wash them down. Fishbone’s Ragin’ Cajun Pasta Executive Chef and Partner Jessie Souza Fishbones Cajun & Creole 1704 Milwaukee Street Delafield, WI 53018 262-646-4696 For the past eight years, Chef Souza, formerly Corporate Chef for Louise’s in California and Milwaukee, has been wowing patrons with his Cajun-Creole fusion at Fishbones in Delafield. Diners enjoy the colorful, festive décor inside or peaceful view overlooking Lake Nagawicka from the bar or outside deck. Harkening to his roots, the chef has recently introduced a Mexican menu. Particularly notable are his crispy flautas with a moist, tasty chicken filling. ¾ lb Andouille sausage ¾ lb grilled chicken 2 small tomatoes, chopped ½ c sliced mushrooms 1 pint heavy whipping cream 12 shrimp, cleaned 6 T olive oil Salt & pepper to taste Cajun seasoning to taste 1 lb spaghetti pasta (cooked) Method: In a medium sauté pan, add the oil and heat for 2 minutes. Add the sausage and cook for 1 minute. Add chicken and cook for 1 minute. Add shrimp and cook for 2-3 minutes. Add tomatoes and mushrooms, cook for 3-4 minutes. Next add the whipping cream and season with salt and pepper. Let the cream reduce for 3-4 minutes, then add Cajun seasoning to your liking. Finally add the pasta and mix well, place in a medium bowl and serve. Serves four. Tropical Salmon Fantasy + Summer Sensation Cocktail Auto Zone store manager Joseph Russell loves to cook daily feasts and fancy dinner parties for friends. He got his chops from his mother and working as a chef on Amtrak’s Southwest Chief line. 4 salmon filets (about 4 ounces each) Extra virgin olive oil 2 T fresh dill, or 1 T dry Salt and pepper to taste Dust salmon filets with salt and pepper and dill. Place in baking dish skin side down. Drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and bake at 375 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes or until flakey. Serve with Mango Tango Salsa. Mango Tango Salsa ½ papaya, diced ½ mango, diced ¼ c chopped scallion, green part only ¼ c diced red bell pepper 1 T finely diced fresh jalapeno pepper 1 T chopped fresh cilantro 1 small clove garlic, minced 1 T fresh lime juice ¼ t salt ½ t extra virgin olive oil Combine all ingredients and chill for at least one hour. Serve with baked salmon. Summer Sensation Cocktail 1 shot vodka Prepared raspberry lemonade 1 Lemon wedge 2 Strawberries Fill a highball glass with ice. Pour in vodka and chill in freezer for a few minutes. Take out of freezer and fill glass with raspberry lemonade. Squeeze lemon wedge into drink and garnish with quartered strawberries on a swizzle […]
Jun 1st, 2008 by Cate Miller
The Long Blondes
If Kate Jackson, vocalist and co-songwriter for the Long Blondes, were really the “glamorous punk” she proclaims herself to be, she’d understand that it takes time before an “out” trend can become “in” again. Still, her Sheffield, England-based five-piece insists on reconstituting what Franz Ferdinand and Bloc Party did better just a few years ago. Angular post-punk guitars and new-wave synth are go-to on their sophomore release, but Jackson’s voice puts a unique stamp on the boys’-club genre. Her whimper is solid, backed by snarls from bassist Reenie Hollis and keyboardist Emma Chaplin on tracks like “Here Comes the Serious Bit,” a vivacious romp about emotionally listless hookups. But when something more exact is required (“Nostalgia,” “Century”), she wavers. The undeterred Jackson continues to challenge her larynx’s limits on drag-racing, trash can stomp “Round the Hairpin,” but in this instance, risk pays off and compliments the song’s reckless overtones. Driving the album’s relationship concept home, songs about slip-ups in fidelity and perpetually being the third wheel – “Guilt” and “The Couples,” respectively – possess peak pop danceability. Though the Blondes pointedly avoid the autobiographical in their songwriting, taking on perspectives from country bumpkin to jet-setter, they must get out of their heads and be less procedural. The Blondes think they’re clever, they think they’re smart, but they’re “just too clever by half,” says the song titled by those lyrics. Fashion lesson number two for Miz Jackson: the coolest girl in the room is always the most effortless.
Jun 1st, 2008 by Amber Herzog
The Undiscovered
By Ken Olson A door closed noisily. With a lazy start, Greg Norton woke up. Even in the dark, he squinted as he propped himself up on one elbow, listening. Had the door been one of those inside his apartment? Or even the front door? It took him a moment to remember that he wasn’t home alone as he normally was. Tonight he was babysitting his best friend Gina’s son Adam. Maybe the kid had gotten up and gone to the bathroom. Only, it didn’t look like the living room light was on. If it were, he could see it under the bedroom door. Surely Adam would need to turn a light on in order to find his way to the bathroom. The layout of Gina and Adam’s apartment three floors above Greg’s, 602, was the same as his, so maybe not. Greg listened for a minute or two, waiting to hear the toilet flush, or any other sound. But after a few minutes, there was still nothing. He clicked his bedside lamp on, and the room was filled with a golden light, throwing deep, black shadows to all corners. He pushed the sheets behind him and got out of bed, picking up a T-shirt that he’d dropped onto a chair. Greg put the shirt on and stuck his head out the bedroom door. From there, he could see the rest of the apartment. The bathroom door was ajar and the light wasn’t turned on. In the living room, the fold-out bed was indeed empty. There was no one in the kitchen. “Adam?” he called, stepping toward the bathroom door. He leaned in and turned on the white light. Nobody there. He rushed into the living room and turned on the nearest lamp. The kid was gone. “Shit,” Greg said aloud, throwing a glance at the front door. The bolt was unlocked, and the chain was hanging loose. He’d locked them both after he’d put Adam to bed. He jogged to the front door and opened it. He called Adam’s name again, looking side to side down the pale green hall. He didn’t see anybody. “Fuck. Adam?” he called more loudly, stepping out and closing the door behind him. Greg suddenly realized that he wasn’t wearing anything on his feet, and he didn’t want to leave the apartment unlocked if he left to go looking for the kid. With another curse he returned to the apartment and put his keys in the pocket of his sweat pants. He sat on the edge of the fold-out bed and put his shoes on. While he tied them, he thought back to the previous day, Saturday, when Gina had first asked him to babysit Adam. When he’d hesitated to say yes, Gina had said, “Please? Come on, there’s no one else.” “But I don’t like kids.” Out of range for Adam to hear it of course. “It’s just for one night. I’m not leaving until seven, he goes to bed at eight, and […]
Jun 1st, 2008 by Vital Archives
My Morning Jacket
For all intents and (media) purposes, My Morning Jacket is at the crucial fulcrum of their career. Thanks to a catalog consistent in its evolution, they have cred galore (from the critics to the punters) and are revered as one of the best live acts today. So it’s crucial that Evil Urges, their fifth studio full-length, is the one that cements their status as a true American musical treasure and catapults them into the upper strata. Jim James throws down no less than four different voices within the 14 tracks. His falsetto is right on in the saccharine groove of opener “Evil Urges” and the tight, lean funk of “Highly Suspicious.” He handles the country psychedelia of “I’m Amazed” and “Thank You Too” smoothly, and he gets loud and playful on the rockers “Aluminum Park” and “Remnants.” And perhaps most gloriously, Jim evokes Nashville Skyline-era Dylan on the ascending, poignant and goddamn incredible “Librarian.” His performance throughout is simply masterful. The melodies are steeped in soul, with a nice measure of rock and roll. Lest we forget the band: the arrangements and production create the essential atmosphere for Jim to fly. Each instrument, though easily recognizable, slices and bends the air with an array of tones and rhythms that are fresh and that refresh. This recording comes at a perfect time for the rock community. It’s something all of us can put our arms around – and never let go.
Jun 1st, 2008 by Troy Butero
