Monthly Archive for August, 2006

Plastic Smiling Zombies

There are few things cooler in this world than ninjas. While that short list also includes lightsabers and Ruby on Rails, above even these are zombies.

After about 9 or 10 years of geek living on this planet, puberty’s early stages set in and my nerd know-how began to grow past Star Wars action figures and the burning desire to launch global thermonuclear war from my Commodore 64. While my junior-high loser colleagues were busy securing their social pariah status with comic books, I found a love for horror movies. Freddy made me want to sleep in and Jason had me wishing that my parents would send me to summer camp in nearby Crystal Lake. But as soon as I discovered an old black-and-white film called “Night of the Living Dead“, all these slasher slackers would soon be forgotten.

Maybe it was the way black-and-white left so much to fear hiding in the shadows or in the tar-like blood. Perhaps it was the charm of its low-budget simplicity providing my 1980′s over-stimulated senses with much needed room to breathe. And no doubt Romero’s powerful direction, the everyman cast and the politically-cold commentary all played a part in my obsession with the film as well. Nah, I may have been supremely nerdy, but I don’t think I was intellectualizing it that much as a kid. It was probably just the awesome premise of the dead reanimating with the sole intent of feasting on the flesh of the living. Oh, and that little zombie girl near the end eating her parents. Holy crap that was fucking cool!

Awkward family moment

My parents generally exercised poor censoring judgment. They let me watch “The Shining” on TV when I was like 8 years old. I was already having trouble talking to the ladies but that pretty much sealed the deal. Every time I would look at a girl in my 3rd grade class, the phrase “come play with us forever and ever and ever…” echoed through my mind. I probably would have had a goddamn heart attack if I ever saw twins. But I digress…

The poor job my parents did of filtering objectionable content from my impressionable senses led me to acquire what soon became a prized-possession: my very own VHS copy of “Night of the Living Dead”. I must have watched it at least twice weekly. Soon I not only was able to do a pretty good zombie walk, but also an uncanny recitation of the film’s classic line, “They’re coming to get you, Bar-bar-a!”

As the film wove itself into my cultural DNA, I eventually hungered for more. There seemed to be an overabundance of slasher movies, but why the criminal neglect of what was obviously the best horror subgenre in existence?!? Then one day, while voraciously devouring the latest issue of Fangoria, I saw that George A. Romero was making a sequel to… “Dawn of the Dead”? Reading on, the article noted that “Dawn of the Dead” was his amazing follow-up to the classic “Night of the Living Dead”. Okay, I could handle that there was one sequel soon to debut, but there was one before it which I missed? So this will be a trilogy? All this time I was savoring my new hope, oblivious to the knowledge that not only had the Empire already struck back but that the Jedi was soon to return!

In the end “Day of the Dead” was a bit of a disappointment, but I still cherished it. More importantly, much questing through bleak poorly-stocked video stores eventually led me to a copy of “Dawn of the Dead” and I quickly had a new favorite in the zombie realm. Growing up semi-suburbanly on Chicago’s Northwest Side, shopping malls were familiar terrain so this helped transform boring outings to JC Penney’s into potentially valiant missions to rid the Brickyard of cannibalistic hellspawn.

Years went by, decades in fact, with nothing more to see. Romero seemed to disappear just when I was hooked. I got older and finished high school, went to university, traveled the world, got jobs – all of that daily people stuff we all do – and just really gave up on any more zombie movies worth my time ever seeing the light of day. I had the classics to revisit, my sturdy old trilogy, and I grew to be okay with that. The Playstation even brightened my day along the way with the “Resident Evil” series, enabling me to spend late nights getting scared out of my socks while blasting undead baddies in the dark. Yes, the 90′s were low on zombies, but there were a few bones thrown here and there for fans to gnaw on.

Fortunately the tide was destined to turn in the 00′s: zombies were back big-time! I should make it perfectly clear now that I’m not one of those zombie snobs that kicks “28 Days Later” and the “Dawn of the Dead” remake out of bed for eating crackers (or humans, I guess): I can equally appreciate fast and slow zombies. Fast zombies are scary! Sure, it doesn’t make much sense that they can run, but it’s not exactly a compelling argument that a space satellite crashing to Earth could reanimate the dead in the first place. And yes, technically, the “28 Days Later” lot weren’t really zombies since they were the living infected with a virus, but that virus made them act a hell of a lot like zombies, so that’s good enough for me.

The gem of the new crop of zombie films, however, was not a remake nor a film filled with the technically-still-alive, but a romantic zombie comedy from England. “Shaun of the Dead” succeeded as not only a genre satire, but also as a quality entry in the genre itself. With the winning team of Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright behind it, how could it fail?

Previous to the RomZomCom film that garnered them international attention, Wright directed the brilliant Channel 4 comedy “Spaced“. Written by co-stars Simon Pegg and Jessica Stevenson, “Spaced” followed the lives of a small group of North Londoners stumbling through their late 20′s. Equally hilarious as it was kind and insightful, “Spaced” captured what it felt like to begin your quarter-life crisis at the end of the century. This was a “Friends” for the fuck-ups and we loved it.

Sadly “Spaced” was destined to last only for two short seasons, as most of the cast quickly moved along to greener pastures. There have been long rumored stories of an eventual third season or perhaps an hour-long television special, but that remains to be seen. It’s no matter, really, as the moment has passed in some ways. I’m not sure much how a 30-something me would like seeing a 30-something Tim and Daisy anyway, but if anyone could pull it off with style and poignancy, it would be Pegg and Stevenson.

I lived through a drought of zombie films, so I can survive the current dearth of Pegg-Wright comedy. To hold me over, I made a trip to my local comic book store recently to procure an item that I deeply coveted ever since it was announced earlier this year: the NECA Cult Classics Series Shaun of the Dead action figure!

Standing approximately six inches tall, this menacing bit of plastic is sure to strike fear in the hearts of the miniature undead everywhere. He’s currently standing atop my external FireWire hard drive, looking like he’s about to take a cricket bat to my PowerBook. My PowerBook, happily, does not appear to be fear-stricken. (If it did, it’s kernel might panic! Wakka wakka wakka… geek jokes: I got a million of ‘em!)

And just so Shaun wouldn’t feel lonely, I bought a zombie friend for him to attack from NECA’s Series 3: Zombie Flyboy from the original “Dawn of the Dead”! He looks a bit green in the face and is rather blood-soaked as well. And Shaun thinks he’s got red on him?! Hands off the PowerBook, Shaun – worry about that other classic horror icon creeping up behind you instead!

I’ve taken a few photos for your enjoyment and I’ll leave you with them. If your DVD player can handle Region 2 DVDs and you haven’t seen it yet, buy “Spaced”. If Simon Pegg is reading this, congratulations sir, you’ve finally made it to the top of the geek heap: you are immortalized in plastic! Hey!!!

Slip Slip Away

I refrained from posting about Syd Barrett’s death just less than a month ago. I always found his music enjoyable and the only capacity in which I ever liked Pink Floyd involved Syd at the helm. Nonetheless, I held back from posting because I knew five million other bloggers would. I cringed as blog after blog told that “crazy diamond” to “shine on”, as I certainly didn’t see that lyrical reference coming. It’s a curious role that blogs occupy in the online body of news. Often they supply a completely fresh perspective that you don’t hear anywhere else, but just as often they mimic mainstream media and fall prey to its clichés.

This morning, however, I woke up earlier than usual and began to read the news with blearier eyes than usual. I hardly believed it when I learned that a man whose music touched me far more deeply than Syd’s had passed away yesterday: Arthur Lee of the 1960′s Los Angeles psychedelic pop band Love.

Lee’s lyrics, combined with his ability to deliver them either tenderly or ferociously depending on the situation, never failed to leap out of the speakers and linger in my head for days. Sometimes even months after having last listened to a Love album, suddenly a song fragment would appear in my head: “I’d go slip slip, you’d go slip slip, away….” In those moments, I’d almost always fill with an uncontrollable need to spend the next hour or so listening to old Love records.

I think the first Love song I ever heard was their Bacharach and David cover, “My Little Red Book”. At the time I didn’t know it was a cover, so I just assumed it was their original song. No matter though, it may as well have been considering how much they made it their own. This was Lee softly vulnerable while screaming from the center of his broken heart. With each return to the end-of-chorus line “there’s just no getting over you”, you feel yourself getting over all the heartbreak you thought you’d never let slip away.

After my fascination with “My Little Red Book” and its neighbor on Love’s eponymous debut album, “Can’t Explain”, my elder music geek friends at the time told me I had to hear Forever Changes. Widely regarded not only as Love’s best record, but one of the greatest rock albums of all time, this 1967 album deserves every accolade heaped onto it. You can preach to me about Sgt. Pepper and his Pet Sounds all you want, but if I had to take only one late-60′s lysergic pop gem to the proverbial desert island with me, this would be it.

Arthur’s gentle love of life is still here, but it dances with fear and doubt throughout. The optimism and the turmoil of the decade in which these songs were conceived can be heard in almost every one of their lines:

  • “And I’m wrapped in my armor, but my things are material. And I’m lost in confusion, ’cause my things are material.”
  • “I know the old man would laugh. He spoke of love’s sweeter days, and in his eloquent way, I think he was speaking of you. You are so lovely, you didn’t have to say a thing.”
  • “There are people wearing frowns who’ll screw you up, but they would rather screw you down.”
  • “By the time that I’m through singing, the bells from the schools of walls will be ringing. More confusions, blood transfusions, the news today will be the movies for tomorrow. And the water’s turned to blood, and if you don’t think so, go turn on your tub. And if it’s mixed with mud, you’ll see it turn to gray. And you can call my name. I hear you call my name…”

These are mushroom trips taken in the shadow of the mushroom cloud. Acid dreams forming and promising a brighter tomorrow, then slowly melting away. When I first heard the last quote I listed above in “A House is Not a Motel”, its fast delivery, unwavering certainty and sense of being alive all made me question exactly when the song was recorded. Was it really that long ago? Certainly someone made this last week! I will listen to this album as soon as I finish writing, but right now in my mind’s ear I can hear Arthur singing fiercely, “go turn on your tub”. The short stab of the word “tub” is giving me shivers and the record isn’t even playing.

My favorite song on Forever Changes is probably an odd choice, considering it’s not the classic “A House is Not a Motel” or the oft-quoted “The Red Telephone”. And I always forget about my favorite, as it sits nestled just inside the second half of the album. I can’t extract one single quote that can explain why I love “Live and Let Live” so much, because there isn’t one that would do the song justice printed here away from its musical accompaniment. Just go buy this record if you don’t already have it, it’s great, trust me. When you get to this pretty little song, I hope you smile.

In the last few years of his life, Arthur Lee went back out on tour, sometimes playing Forever Changes in its entirety. Although he played in Chicago a few times, I never took the opportunity to see him. I think initially perhaps I was afraid that the gig wouldn’t be very good and that I’d see a master off his game. I’d heard so many reviews to the contrary, however, that I don’t think that was the case when he came through town again.

I think that perhaps my relationship with Arthur Lee’s songs was so personal, it just wasn’t something I could share with strangers in a bar. I’m the anomaly among my music-loving friends because live music doesn’t usually matter to me as much as its recorded counterpart. Arthur’s songs came into my home via vinyl, and they came to live with me there. They moved with me wherever I went and now they are a part of me. I don’t care so much that I never got to see Arthur Lee play live, as I wish there was some way for me to tell him how much his songs meant to someone so far removed from him, someone he’d never meet.

The power of music – art in general, too, really – to form these connections across time and space is amazing, remarkable stuff. But that’s why we love it, right? It’s like life. Thanks, Arthur.

I’ll leave you with more lyrics. Appropriately they come from the closing song on Forever Changes, “You Set the Scene”, and impart some of the life wisdom that Arthur Lee had acquired by the age of 22.

“This is the only thing that I am sure of
And that’s all that lives is gonna die
And there’ll always be some people here to wonder why
And for every happy hello, there will be good-bye
There’ll be time for you to put yourself on

Everything I’ve seen needs rearranging
And for anyone who thinks it’s strange
Then you should be the first to want to make this change
And for everyone who thinks that life is just a game
Do you like the part you’re playing?”


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