Skinny Puppy - The Greater Wrong Of The Right
A kinder, gentler puppy

By Tom Johnson, Delicious Media Contributor

It's not so difficult to imagine Skinny Puppy continuing to exist through the mid-90s - most of the solo output of the members has sounded more like Skinny Puppy than the band's own "final" album, The Process, actually did.

After Dwayne Goettel died of an overdose, the band finished up that album and released it to a world that was rapidly growing sick of the industrial sound. While the album maintained much of the attitude and fury SP was known for, they had begun to absorb more mainstream sounds - guitars were featured heavily and song structures veered more toward standard rock than ever before.

While guitars had been a part of the mixture, they had never been so prominent, not even on the very "rock" Rabies (which featured the influence of Ministry's Al Jourgensen). The Process failed to satisfy many fans - which is unfortunate because what's good on the album is pretty great - but what's not . . . isn't.

The members of Skinny Puppy disbanded, but the sound continued on as Download - named after a cacophonous Skinny Puppy track from the seminal Last Rites. The first two albums as Download, Furnace and The Eyes Of Stanley Pain along with their accompanying EPs, Microscopic and Sidewinder, respectively, picked up where Skinny Puppy had failed to pick up with The Process, incorporating SP's penchant for intriguing sounds and angular structures with touches of techno.

Later Download albums would explore the techno end of music more as they shed the identity of being Skinny Puppy Part II. In the meantime, on various other side projects, the Skinny Puppy sound still continued - you can't blame them for seemingly being unable to get away from sound they helped pioneer. Ogre's project Ohgr was really a more pop-oriented Skinny Puppy, and his other project, the (so far) one-off Rx, with the legendary drummer Martin Atkins was akin to what Skinny Puppy might sound like with less reliance on keyboards and computers - I always liken this to "acoustic industrial."

It came as a pleasant surprise to hear that Skinny Puppy had reformed for a reunion concert, which was documented on Doomsday: Back and Forth, Volume 5, and only a slightly more shocking surprise to hear that a new album was in the works. The Greater Wrong Of The Right brings Ogre and Key back into the fold with new member Mark Walk. But is is really Skinny Puppy?

A quick answer that those less familiar with SP might offer is an undoubtable yes. For those who've surrounded themselves with their music, you might have a hard time swallowing some of this as "really" Skinny Puppy.

On initial listen, it's obvious the band has been very influenced by much of the edgier mainstream rock - I can't help but think the band really, really likes something as unlikely (for them) as Linkin Park because opening tracks "I'mmortal" and "Pro-test," the latter of which features Ogre rapping, of all things - and don't overlook the inclusion of Static-x vocalist Wayne Static on "Use Less," which also features Tool drummer Danny Carey. But you know what? It works.

I was initially taken aback by the new, more mainstream attitude of Skinny Puppy, but once the shock wears off after a few listens, this is an engaging, satisfying album. Putting aside the notions of just what Skinny Puppy "should" be reveals that it's possible to continue on with a legendary name and not sully the name and image. They've rightly chosen to follow the vein that The Process started, but they've wisely managed to steer clear of that album's disappointments. Where The Process felt like a forced reaction to the light, radio-friendly pop that industrial had become in the wake of the massive success of Nine Inch Nails, The Greater Wrong Of The Right feels more like a natural progression - at least from the startling changes of The Process.

Skinny Puppy die-hards will likely balk at the new, "easier" sound, but those who can look beyond this will find an album that is much more satisfying and enjoyable than one might expect.

Tom Johnson likes corn, but only if it's popped. Accomplishments include being crowned "belch king" for the first half of 6th grade. He also enjoys writing his own bios.

Morrissey, "You Are The Quarry"
Manchester's favorite son makes the world safe for moping again



It's safe to say that you either love or hate this guy. There are people out there (some of them I know personally) who would give their right arm for a front-row seat at a Morrissey show, rushing the stage, hugging him and probably giving him a bouquet of flowers. Consequently there are also people who will see the image above this paragraph and roll their eyes in frustration. "Not him again..."

While I wouldn't sacrifice any limbs or rush any stages in his honor, I have to say in all honesty that I'm a pretty big fan. I loved the Smiths when I was in high school and began buying all the full-length solo albums, starting with the wonderful "Viva Hate" in 1988.

Morrissey's solo career has had an interesting trajectory: "Viva Hate" won critical raves and was a smash with the fans; 1991's "Kill Uncle" was a true sophomore slump, getting so-so reviews and containing, in my opinion, about three decent songs; 1992's "Your Arsenal" was a bright, vibrant, glam/rockabilly return to form; and 1994's moody "Vauxhall and I" was a brilliant exercise in dynamics.

After that, things get hazy for me. I passed on the two follow-up albums, "Southpaw Grammar" and "Maladjusted," mainly due to the bad reviews and indifference from even the most hardcore fans. Had the Moz' music really run its course?

It's amazing what seven years can do to a guy. That's how long it's been since "Maladjusted" limped onto the music scene. Since then, Morrissey moved to California, went a little grey around those ever-present sideburns, and generally stayed off the radar. That is, until now. "You Are The Quarry" is Moz in the New Millennium.

Has he learned anything in those seven years? Not that I can tell, if the music is any indication. In other words, if you like Morrissey, you'll love this album. This is him, pulling no punches and making no compromises. The day the album was released (this Tuesday), I asked Dave, our music supervisor at Borders, what "You Are The Quarry" sounded like (I had yet to hear it myself). "It sounds like Morrissey," he explained. Nothing wrong with that!

The old piss and vinegar is intact, and comes out immediately. Really. The album's first song, "America is Not the World" starts with the line, "America, your head is too big." The staunch vegetarian also adds that the U.S. not only invented the hamburger, but also suggests a place where they can stick the invention. So much for mellowing with age.

Alan Whyte and Boz Boorer, guitarists and co-songwriters who've been with Morrissey for about 15 years, provide fresh, vital instrumentation, complete with chiming guitars and occasional crunchy distortion. Keyboards are also a bit more in the mix than past albums, but never to a distracting degree. There's some slight nods to current technology, but it all fits.

Piano and strings even come out for "Come Back to Camden," a beautiful, sentimental love letter to England that shows that you can take Moz out of England, but not England out of the Moz. "Under slate-grey Victorian skies," Morrissey croons, and it's a quintessential Morrissey line. Without the sarcasm.

Jabs at self-loving celebrity airheads are certainly welcome in this age of Britney Spears and reality television, and they get their due in "The World Is Full of Crashing Bores," which has great lyrics, but is made even better by the anthemic, almost majestic quality of the music. Oh, and have I mentioned that Morrissey's voice sounds better than ever?

If you're looking for a new Morrissey, one who may have given up on being bitter or sarcastic (or coming up with song titles like "I Have Forgiven Jesus"), you won't find a new guy here. It's the one you know and love (or hate). But with a few new suits in the closet.

J. Geils Band, "Love Stinks"
Boston's white boy funksters straddle a line



Some people say “change is good,” while most people rightfully decry the concept of “change for the sake of change.” I’d like to think that Love Stinks, the J. Geils Bands’ 1980 official entry into new-wave credibility, fits the former maxim and not the latter.

At the dawn of the Reagan era, it would have been easy to dismiss this album as a sell-out, but it’s also entirely possible that Boston’s own white boy soul men ran their blues angle into the ground and were looking for a fresh sound. A “fresh sound” is certainly what listeners got when they dropped the needle onto the opening track, “Just Can’t Wait.” Keening synthesizers drive the song along, and vocalist/frontman Peter Wolf’s lusty pleas are egged on by guitarits J. Geils’ beautiful, hook-laden guitar solo. This is clearly a band with recharged batteries.

Not that the band’s old sound was anything to scoff at. Since their beginnings in the late 60s, Wolf, Geils, keyboard player Seth Justman, bass player Danny Klein, drummer Stephen Jo Bladd and the wonderfully named blues harp master Magic Dick forged a unique blend of bluesy swagger and party funk. Concert favorites like the self-explanatory “Detroit Breakdown” and their rousing covers of a variety of obscure blues chestnuts like “Serves You Right To Suffer” coexisted happily with the reggae-pop of “Give It To Me” and the hit ballad “Must of Got Lost.” It was almost as if new wave party anthems were just one more format these guys needed to master.

Obscure covers haven’t been abandoned with the new sound, though. Their version of the Strangeloves’ “Night Time” is here, and boy, does it cook – they sound like a young hungry bar band while tearing through this party starter.

Revisiting this album for the first time in many years (I picked up the CD last night), I was struck by how well it’s held up. Sure, the synths reach a sort of cheesy fever pitch during the second song (the discofied “Come Back,” a pure retro guilty pleasure in all its Jordache splendor), but that’s also what we love about Gary Numan’s “Cars.” If you want loud guitars and attitude, why not try the title track? Those of you only familiar with Adam Sandler’s “Wedding Singer” version (which I’ll admit, my ambivalent feelings towards Sandler aside, is pretty funny) will be pleasantly surprised at the energy and vitality of the original version. And while the title track’s guitar riff is a blatant rip-off of “Wild Thing,” you can’t deny its impact, or that of “Takin’ You Down,” another potent rocker on this long-forgotten album.

Love Stinks only deviates from the party atmosphere twice: “Desire” is the album’s sole ballad (and one that will perhaps grow on me, but in the meantime is a track I normally skip over), and “No Anchovies, Please,” is a hilarious skit that shows the boys have a sense of humor underneath all that boogie bluster.

Love Stinks was a local smash in Boston and on national rock radio, while serving as a springboard for what would be their biggest smash yet, 1981’s Freeze Frame (which would contain their only #1 pop hit, “Centerfold”). By the time that album was released, Justman pushed the band to a technology-obsessed critical mass, which had its moments, but for most fans (myself included) stepped over the line. Eventually Wolf left the band, they made one god-awful album without him, and promptly broke up.

Love Stinks shows Boston’s other bad boys straddling the line between snotty R&B bar band and cutting-edge pop nirvana the only way they can – with a whole lot of attitude.

Terence Trent D’Arby, “Wildcard”
Gone, forgotten, but still breathing



Conceit never seems to be a smart career move in the music business, and Terence Trent D’Arby has spent the last 15 years learning that the hard way.

In 1987, the New York City-born R&B singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist blasted onto the music scene with an impressive debut album, Introducing the Hardline According to Terence Trent D’Arby. A mixture of pop, funk, and smart urban melody, the album yielded a #1 pop hit, “Wishing Well,” along with two more successful singles, “If You Let Me Stay” and “Sign Your Name.” D’Arby was all over the place.

Unfortunately, so was his ego. Once the original huzzahs began to die down, the press (and subsequently, the music-buying public) latched on to D’Arby’s overconfident pronouncements regarding everything from his musical talent (he referred to his debut album as “better than Sgt. Pepper") to his sexual prowess (“I make love more often than I wash my hair,” he once boasted, which seems to say more about his lack of follicle hygiene than anything else). And so the backlash and apathy began.

When artists don’t deserve our attention in the first place, backlashes are excusable (think Milli Vanilli). But D’Arby’s debut album was an impressive collection of fiery funk, and his voice – evoking a modern-day Sam Cooke – a breathtaking instrument of emotion. No matter. Apparently, when you diss Sgt. Pepper, you’re off the guest list.

D’Arby twisted the knife even further in 1989 with his sophomore effort, Neither Fish Nor Flesh, a sprawling, dissonant, gospel-tinged emotional masterpiece. Regardless of its occasional critical acclaim (it’s a fantastic, if uneven, album), Fish tanked.

Subsequent attempts to revive his career (with excellent and rather accessible works like Symphony or Damn and Vibrator) proved fruitless and D’Arby eventually fell back on his “Wishing Well” royalties and a life of sporadic artistic output and minor cult status. Somewhere along the way, he moved to Italy and changed his name to Sananda Maitreya (really). Fame may do strange things to people, but not nearly as much as a fall from fame.

I have no idea if D’Arby has any more interest in reclaiming his original heights of popularity and success (I doubt it), but his latest, Wildcard, could be a significant contribution to such an effort.

It’s certainly not as experimental as albums like Neither Fish Nor Flesh. It’s funky, street-smart, and very much a piece of danceable, 21st century R&B. Nods to retro – old-school soul horns, wah-wah guitar, charming psychedelia – all are over the place, as are contemporary synth sounds, peppering the album with modern relevance (without ever sounding pandering or like an old fart trying to keep up). Drum machines are a dominant presence as well, but they merely provide a pulse and never seem to overtake the music.

D’Arby’s voice is still a mighty force to be reckoned with and has not lost an ounce of its original potency. “Fundamentally sound / my karma’s coming ‘round / and I’m not worried,” his gentle voice croons over a banjo(!) accompaniment at the very beginning of the opening track, “O Divina.” Before long, drums and horns kick in and the familiar soulful shout is there.

It’s easy to make comparisons between D’Arby and another funky oddball with a strange career path – Prince. They both have an awkward public image, are notorious control freaks, play most if not all of their instruments, and constantly straddle the line between funk and hard rock, not to mention the sacred and the profane (and of course, the name change thing). Like the Purple one, sex and relationships dominate much of the lyrical content. But instead of boasting like a modern-day Don Juan, D’Arby often reflects on getting screwed over – in more ways than one. “I once loved her / now I’m paying the bill,” he sings on the excellent “Designated Fool,” D’Arby’s ode to a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em ex. “My baby’s gone suga free / she ain’t sweet like she used to be,” goes the chorus of “Suga Free.” He still has a way with a killer line, too. The sexy, swaggering “SRR-636” contains the unforgettable “like a Rolling Stone / I jam with a Woody.”

Elsewhere, D’Arby sings of self-confidence and positive energy, in an almost treacly Dr. Phil way. “If you’re not good to yourself,” he warns on “The Inner Scream,” “your self-doubt becomes retribution.” He still hasn’t lost his penchant for the occasional flowery spoken word moment, either. But these drifts into navel-gazing are few and far between, and besides, would you rather have the overconfident boasting of the 80s?

Listening to Wildcard, I can’t help thinking that there’s really nothing on this extremely strong album that would make the average listener either recoil in horror or shrug in apathy. What’s continuing to keep D’Arby off the radar (besides his expatriate status) are various statements and attitudes he made back in the Reagan administration, which were obviously a) the result of a kid in his mid-twenties, unfamiliar with effectively playing the media, and b) not worth the scorn he continues to be subjected to in 2004.

But D’Arby himself seems to have made peace with his erratic past, and is in a warm, but no less creative and funky place. “Goodbye Diane” is obviously a touching break-up song, but one can’t help thinking that the opening line is a nod to the early phase of his career: “Once upon a time I said some pretty fucked-up things.”

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
I’m fine with out you…

By Byron Schaller, Delicious Media contributor



Charlie Kaufman has a masterful understanding of the human mind, and even more importantly, how to translate the mind’s workings into a screenplay. We saw this first in 1999 comedy “Being John Malkovich” where Kaufman explored the ability to crawl inside the head of the famous actor. He continued to shape his art in 2002’s “Adaptation” where we find him navigating his mind as himself trying to write the very movie we are watching. This maze cinema approach and physiological insight reach their peak with his latest work, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”.

The work done by everyone in this film is nothing short of stellar. Jim Carrey proves once and for all that he is a very proficient dramatic actor. He gives a fantastic performance as Joel Barish a quiet and introverted man whose mind becomes the backdrop for most of the film. Kate Winslet also gives a great performance as Clementine, Barish’s ill fate love. Tom Wilkinson gives the level of performance we have come to expect after such a great performance in 2001’s “In the Bedroom” as Dr. Howard Mierzwiak. Elijah Wood manages to separate himself quite well from the role of Frodo Baggins as plays a morally devoid technician named Patrick, and Kirsten Dunst rises above the normal flighty teen shtick she is know for as Dr. Mierzwiak’s receptionist Mary.

The film’s main focus is on one of our most human characteristics, our memories, and how they define us, challenge us, and control us. The film supposes that there is a procedure that can erase something from a person’s memory completely, leaving them as if it had never happened. The movie itself in follows a nonlinear timeline and takes place both in the real world and Joel’s mind. The transitions are clear and easy to follow and don’t disrupt the telling of the story at all. In fact it enhances it.

The special effects inside Joel’s head are fantastic. From easy “Blair Witch” style flashlight and camera work to surreal effects like jumping between memories and having things disappear out of nowhere the special effects accent the story and in most cases the scenery very well. The idea of being in someone’s head has never looked better.

The most important part of the film, aside from its cinematic brilliance is its message. As painful as memories can be at the end of a relationship, especially a bad one, is it better to remember, because as painful as it maybe at the time, you will always have the good memories and those are priceless. On top of that it goes further to ask if you know how something is going to end, and it is bad, would you still do it? These are important observations and questions that strike at the core of the human condition.

This film is moving and inspiring and may change how you view your own life. Such and important movie should not be missed. Make sure to see it, preferably with someone you love. And don’t forget about it come awards time, you are sure to see there as well.

Byron Schaller is a guest contributor for Delicious Media. He mantains his own blog, In The Congo, enjoys writing, collecting records, and watching Italian horror film. He is a Hoosier, but looks nothing like Gene Hackman.