Red Dead Redemption Original Soundtrack (OST)

Marketers, take note! The ultimate factor in convincing my husband and I to pre-order Rockstar Games' Red Dead Redemption, as opposed to waiting a year or two for the price to cut in half as is our usual game-buying habit, was not the free DLC or the map poster, but the free inclusion of the game's soundtrack with all pre-ordered copies. Soundtracks are expensive, game soundtracks especially so, and we figured we couldn't go too wrong gambling on a Western soundtrack - a relatively new genre, they're hard to screw up, and many a forgettable or outright crappy cowboy flick has been elevated by its solid musical score. And I can rarely get enough of the soundtrack from LucasArts' old PC game, Outlaws.

Red Dead Redemption is a solid game, memorable, intriguing, and fun, but its soundtrack is exceptional, a great listen even when separated from its in-game context. Composers Bill Elm and Woody Jackson have brought the Western musical genre into the present, doing two notable things most Western soundtrack composers don't: heavily incorporating both contemporary musical influences and musical influences from the time period their story takes place in. The end result is a lesson in what fusion should sound like. Elm and Jackson's skills have even created a handful of acid jazz-fueled tracks that would sound at home on Lalo Schiffrin's score for Bullitt, or even on The A-Team - but don't sound out of place here, on an album for a Wild West video game released in 2010. Mexican influences are also clear and present, which is swell seeing as how the game's second act plays out south of the border. The only place this album hiccups a bit is on its final track, a vocal number called "Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie", whose lyrics and tone disagree with the game's conclusion and led me to believe that it would be soaked in hopelessness and despair, when its bittersweet ending was actually quite the opposite (much to my relief, though it was still quite emotionally draining).

The closing track's relation to the game's story aside, Red Dead Redemption (OST) is a basically perfect record. For music lovers, soundtrack afficionados, and anyone who likes a good Western, this is something well worth looking up regardless of whether or not you'd play the game.

(Still) The Best Thing About Buffalo

Remember The Goo Goo Dolls? Those guys that you couldn't not hear on the radio all through the 90's, between numerous singles including "Name", "Slide", "Black Balloon", and, of course, "Iris"? Well, I believe there should be less incredulous looks given in my direction when commenting on their recent material ("What? I didn't know they were still around!"), especially now that I've finally heard their most recent studio album, 2006's Let Love In.

Perhaps the most surprising little-know information about the Dolls is that they're not only still alive and well, but have been recording with record labels since 1987. I had no idea myself that 1995's A Boy Named Goo, which cemented their place as a respectable rock and roll band, was in fact their fifth studio album. But even working only from that album, their evolution as a band, and lead singer/writer John Rzeznik's evolution as a lyricist, is what makes them my favourite pure rock band still recording.

Stylistically, there hasn't been a lot of change between A Boy Named Goo and Let Love In - and I mean that as a complement. I listen to particular bands because I like the distinct sound that makes them, well, them, and get pretty put out when, two albums later, they decide to "reinvent themselves" (i.e. got bored with their old style, or got an ultimatum from their label). Also, as an artist and amateur musician, I personally have more respect for artists who choose to focus on something and then spend the rest of their careers striving to make that one thing constantly better while still retaining its core elements. That's a lot harder than it sounds. So the first thing I love about The Goo Goo Dolls is how, since they started being a rock band (they used to be punks, I had no idea), they've never stopped sounding like The Goo Goo Dolls. Every subsequent album sounds like The Goo Goo Dolls, but more accomplished than before. I appreciate it on a personal level, and it speaks volumes to their musicianship. Which is already of substantial quality, as they derive their unique sound by doing things like tuning every guitar string to the same note, but in a different octave, and so on, resulting in music that in a cursory listen sounds like everyone else's same three chords (all hail G C D!) but upon closer inspection stands out because it doesn't sound anything like that. In fact, most of their songs are in A or D flat, which are not really amenable to standard guitar tunings, which means someone needs to do some serious problem-solving in order to achieve their desired result. It sounds different, simultaneously shiny and matte, better than the Big Three in a way that's blunt and subtle all at the same time. I respect no artists more than those who create something so complex it seems simple. That is a truly challenging endeavour, and the Dolls have not only been pulling it off but building on it since the early '90's.

But I mention style here because that's what got me thinking about this post. While listening to Let Love In, Corey commented that it sounded a lot like contemporary Christian worship rock. Which got my attention, because, though both a contemporary Christian and musician I may be, I can't stand the musical stylings of contemporary Christian worship rock. But it wasn't so much the music on Let Love In that makes it this way, but rather what it sounds like. It sounds like praise, and in its own way, I am quite convinced that this is the case.

I alluded early on to John Rzeznik's evolution as a writer, and currently having in my possession every studio album from A Boy Named Goo to Let Love In really makes this stand out. A Boy Named Goo isn't quite an angry album, per se, but it has a lot of despair - an overarching feeling and message of, "things suck, and we're quite upset about that, but can't see a way out or what can be done to change things." Its follow-up, Dizzy Up the Girl (she of the numerous radio hits), starts presenting glimmers of hope - there is still a lot of entanglement in bad situations, but there are also the beginnings of seeing light at the end of the tunnel, the realization that maybe, just maybe, there might be a way out after all. Gutterflower (2002) is a strange one, and quite possibly my favourite. It's what you might call a break-up album, but which I would say, in its depth and maturity, is more about the end of a relationship rather than a break-up. With the average levels of bitterness, rage, and immaturity on the standard break-up album, it would be both insulting and misleading to refer to Gutterflower as such. That album is packed with surprisingly gentle but sharp rebukes on how not to deal ("Big Machine), grown-up acceptances and admissions ("Sympathy", "What do you need?"), and it closes with the most clear expression up to then of what became of Rzeznik's Catholic upbringing: "Truth is a whisper and only a choice / nobody hears above this noise / It's always a risk when you try and believe / I know there's so much more than me / Yeah I got caught up in the ruse of this world / It's just a promise no one ever keeps / And now it's changing while we sleep... / Who's the one you answer to / do you listen when he speaks / or is everything for you / and do you find it hard to sleep"

Let Love In tells a story of what sounds like Rzeznik finding good, healthy, earthly love, but every song also drips with Christian images of joy, peace, hope, delight, particularly "Without You Here". With lyrics like "let me remind you / the light doesn't blind you at all / it just helps you see" ("Become"), and songs like "Better Days" (my new favourite Christmas tune), the one thing this album is clearly in praise of is truth and love - the only question is whose. I can't imagine it being anything other than the Christian variety, because that's what it screams in my ear, and because the one thing I can say in all certainty without being a presumptuous ass is that there is no truth but Christ, and that there is no joy comparable or more powerful than that found in his salvation. However, I would be a presumptuous ass to make declarations regarding John Rzeznik's opinions on Jesus, and since I can't find any word from him on the subject, the true inspiration behind Let Love In will remain a mystery.

And, of course, the album is very solid musically, and John Rzeznik's made a place for himself in my books amongst the great lyricists of rock and roll with "Feel the Silence", an honest song about the difficulties of reconciliation that includes the brilliant line "we're drowning in the water that flows under this bridge."

All this to say that The Goo Goo Dolls are alive, well, and, with every album, better than ever. Rock and roll hasn't been too big this decade, what with the major trends being the alt-experimental styles used by Coldplay, Broken Social Scene, Arcade Fire, Hey Rosetta!, Sufjian Stevens, Jets Overhead, and the like, and, on the not-so-good side of things, the "adult contemporary" resurgence we can all throw gardening tools at American Idol for causing. But despair not! If you want some good current, plain ol' rock and roll, look no further than the little white tab at HMV labelled "Goo Goo Dolls". I once had some kick-ass lemonade and corndogs at an outlet mall in Buffalo, but The Goo Goo Dolls will always be the best thing that little city's ever produced.

Lamentations 3. How Mysterious.

In a horse-powered sleigh at the top of the town
sun coming up paints the snow all around
with rose light
In front of the house where I'm supposed to be born
I don't think I'm ready to walk through that door just yet
To be one more voice in the human choir
rising like smoke from the mystical fire
of the heart

The wind that blows through everything
sweeps out the halls of my heart when I sing
to you
It carries the moon and the stars and the rain
Carries the seagulls and carries my shame
away
Spins me around, stops me running away
from all of the things I've been waiting to say
But don't

Here
Is bigger than you can imagine
Now
is forever

Sun coming up paints the snow all around
Rose on the roofs and the trees and the ground
And the stream
In my dream
Messenger wind swooping out of the sky
lights each tiny speck in the human kaleidoscope
With hope



- Bruce Cockburn, "Messenger Wind" (You've Never Seen Everything, 2002)

So Simple It's Complex

The Edmonton Public Library has a sweet CD collection, and when I go to the Whitemud branch it's rare that I don't yank one or two items off the soundtrack shelf. Film scores are a favoured genre for me; there's nothing like music that tells a story, and the right score supports and elevates a film beyond that medium's capabilities. It seems like the film composer's club is a very small one, with the same names popping up again and again, and I imagine its a much harder discipline to succeed in than regular composing. To use an analogy, buying a gift for yourself is easy; buying a gift for someone else, to suit their taste, style, character, contents of their home is a practice that most people dread because it's usually so hard.

This week's film score of choice: Howard Shore's haunting, dread-filled backbone of Martin Scorsese's The Departed. That (excellent) film is an American re-telling of a (very good) Hong Kong drama called Infernal Affairs, and is a cop story about corruption, unhealthy determination, and the impacts of going deep undercover for those with consciences (a cop infiltrating a gang) and those without (a gang member infiltrating the cops).

Shore's score is centered around Spanish guitar styles, in particular the tango, and the reason this matters it's pretty far down the list of sounds expected to prop up an American police/gang drama based on Chinese source material and set in the heart of Boston's Irish community. Somehow, incredibly, the score not only works but sounds right. It takes on Mexican qualities at some points, building off the film's Wild West aspects and perhaps nodding to the fact that The Departed is in many ways its own kind of spaghetti western. It maintains the unrelenting gravitas of the film's story all the way through, and that non-problem is the only problem with it. Bubbly, sexy, festive Spanish guitar is very accessible and easy to listen to on a regular basis; dark, corrupted, threatening Spanish guitar is not. Whatever the case may be, it's a fantastic album that succeeds because of Shore's ability to produce the ultimate creative paradox: the music is so simple its complex.

If very dark American-ish Spanish guitar isn't your cup of tea, you can still enjoy the work of Howard Shore. He's worked on just about every film genre you can name, as well as many familiar titles, and is probably best known for his work on The Lord of the Rings. Even if you don't like instrumental music, if you like music period you'd be missing out big time by not listening to at least one Howard Shore film score. He's our Maurice Jarre.

Bits 'n Bites

I have a thing for soundtracks. A good or great soundtrack helps tell a story, and enhances any viewing or playing experience. I picked up the Halo 2 soundtrack at the library today. I really wanted the original Halo 'track, because it's still my favourite of the three. It was made, obviously, before Halo became a pop-culture phenomenon, and is unrestrained in its gameish-ness. Great stuff. Halo 2 upped the pop quotient considerably in terms of its sound, and I wasn't too nuts about it while playing the game, but that was OK because there was plenty to keep me distracted, like making sure my Marines didn't blow themselves up if I gave them rocket launchers.

Hearing a game soundtrack while not playing the game is a very different experience. Upon listening to Halo 2's twenty-one tracks while cleaning and eating lunch, I have to say, it's a great album. It's composed primarily of styles I've never been big on, those being metalcore (what it sounds like, a combination of heavy metal and hardcore) and electronica, but it's such good metalcore and electronica that I couldn't help but enjoy and appreciate it. A catchy and hilarious electronica track, peppered with one-way sound bites of Cortana alternately talking to the Chief and Guilty Spark, stands out in particular. At least, I'm pretty sure Guilty Spark's the recipient of some of that conversation - it's been about a year since I last played 2.

Yeah, I'll still take the Halo soundtrack over Halo 2...but not necessarily, since they're so different. My horizons are officially broadened.

On a completely unrelated note, the Edmonton Public Library doesn't own a single copy of the Kiefer Sutherland Three Musketeers - not even the Michael Yorke Three Musketeers, all they've got is a silent film version. What kind of respectable gigantic library doesn't have the Kiefer Three Musketeers? I mean, really. The librarian said she'd place an order, and to call back in six weeks. The ball is rolling. You're welcome, Edmonton. ;)

Let it Be? Let it Bleed.

"If you remember the sixties, you weren't there", etc, etc. I certainly wasn't there, don't remember them either, but I have the art, and the art is fascinating.

As I finally got my hands on a copy of the Rolling Stones grim farewell to the sixties, Let it Bleed (1969), I was reminded of two things: first, that it's extraordinary, and second, that people who only know the Stones from landmark singles like "Satisfaction" or "Paint it Black" don't realize just how diametrically opposed this band was from the other classic English band (and Stones contemporary) everyone's heard of, The Beatles. Case in point, my husband commenting, with a hint of surprise, "wow, this is really blues-y!". No, those two generals of the British Invasion couldn't be more different, musically and ideologically, and Let it Bleed is a stunning confirmation of such. Where the Beatles pursued experimentation, and creating new sounds, the Stones as I hear them were about actual rock and roll, focusing on its genesis from the blues and pursuing the refinement of that style. Where the Beatles, with a few notable (and stand-alone) exceptions, embodied the hippie ideology of peace, love, and naivete, the Stones had no illusions as to the social and moral failings of this fabled decade, and Let it Bleed is an often painful commentary on just how badly the eyes-wide-shut, free-love philosophy didn't work. Nostalgic, this album ain't - it comes off as a bit relieved to be leaving the sixties behind. It was also released the same year as the Fab Four's final studio album, Abbey Road and, significantly, only knocked that out of Billboard's #1 until Christmas week, when Road took precedence again. Abbey Road has one dark note in "Maxwell's Silver Hammer", but compared to any track you can shuffle off Let it Bleed, it's a very tame way to acknowledge that sometimes, life sucks, and the promises of the decade didn't quite pan out. Sure, there were dark turns to the Beatles, like some of the White Album, or "I Am The Walrus", or those weird uber-violent, mysoginistic tracks like Rubber Soul's "Run For Your Life", on which Lennon sings about how he'll murder his ex if he catches her with someone else, but they always seemed kind of random to me. These tracks never seemed resolved with the larger overarching, ignorantly cheerful tone of the Beatle's catalogue, almost as if they wanted to be looking more deeply at this stuff, but were determined to maintain their peace 'n love, I'm okay you're okay ideology and the image that went with it.

"Gimme Shelter", opening the album, is a heavy, weary, blistering comment on how horrors like rape, murder, and war hang over our heads and can strike at any time. Title track "Let it Bleed" turns the tame, feel-good refrain of "lean on me" into the more desperate "bleed on me", along with a raft of sexually explicit verses. "Live With Me" is a damning look at unstructured, dysfunctional, carelessly entered domestic life. "Midnight Rambler" uses upbeat, familiar blues conventions to back lyrics about a serial killer. And the album's most recognizable track, "You Can't Always Get What You Want", is one of the greatest album closers I can think of, a brilliant, poignant song of pain and disillusionment warring with hope. I've seen it compared to both "Hey Jude" and "A Day in the Life"; personally, I can't find any substantial connection with either. "Hey Jude" is a beautiful song, but it's pretty tame, and is a loving encouragement to someone, whereas "You Can't Always Get What You Want" is from the POV of someone trying to make sense of things by themselves - it has a weight, and a sense of growth, that is absent from the core of "Hey Jude". As for comparing it to "A Day in the Life"...huh? All I see there is a tenuous connection between using classical musical elements.

To clarify - I don't look down on the Beatles. I just listen to them for what they are, with my eyes open. And I think it's great stuff. At one point in time, I owned all their studio albums, plus a good chunk of the fan stuff like Live at the BBC. I walked down the aisle at my wedding to "In My Life". But, when I'm looking for a little empathy, they don't usually do the trick. As I've tried to convey here, the Beatles and the Stones are different as night and day - I really don't think that they can be compared in terms of, for example, who's the better band. It would be like trying to pit Coldplay against Radiohead, wherein the only common ground is that they're both creative, skilled, and British.

My description of the tracks, and flavour of the album, may leave you wondering why anyone should want to listen to such a thing. I would say, for the same reason anyone would want to watch Unforgiven. Let it Bleed is a very dark album; however, it both explicitly and implicitly says and explores some very important issues. And, oh yeah, it's a musical masterpiece. One of the best rock albums you'll ever hear. It's also not currently available in CD format, but in something that's supposed to have superior sound quality. The audio business hasn't come to the head of its version of the Blu-Ray - Hi-Def war yet. Fortunately, the album didn't give my original Xbox any trouble...though maybe it's just my TV, with its puny built-in speakers, but I didn't note it as sounding any better than a CD format album.

What else can I say? Great album, an interesting slice of musical and social history, though depending on your personality and mental state, it may not be a healthy listen.

Chillin' in the...1820's?

Everyone's heard the loudest snippet of the final movement of Beethoven's ninth symphony. It graces our films, tv shows, and commercials with impunity. But what about the rest of that symphony? Whaddaya say?

A few days ago, I heard the Ninth in its entirety for the first time, from start to finish - and I now understand people who think that a great way to spend an evening is in a comfy chair with a glass of wine playing symphonies on the stereo.

Imagine, for a moment, if all we knew of Saving Private Ryan was the final conversation between Ryan and his captain. It would still be a powerful, beautiful, striking scene...but, out of context, it wouldn't mean a whole lot. After hearing the whole Ninth from start to finish, this is what only hearing the loudest part of the final movement is like.

It's a masterpiece. Taking the journey from the first notes to that final Ode to Joy is an experience that can't really be described, except to say that you've never actually heard the Ode to Joy until you've heard where it came from. I was so floored at the end of this symphony that I couldn't listen to another one for three days - and when I thought I was ready, I really wasn't. I still haven't quite absorbed it properly.

I should probably at a caveat here that I already like this kind of stuff - I'm a classically trained flautist, so classical music doesn't scare me. But, I'd strongly encourage you, even if you don't or think you don't like this genre, to give Beethoven's Ninth a chance. It'll only take about an hour of your life - there are so many worse ways to spend that hour.

Trust me!

Chillin' in the 90's III: Those Saints Got Rhythm

Not only was it a good ten years for movies; the 90's produced a heck of a lot of good music. 'Twas the heyday of the Barenaked Ladies, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Cranberries, the Tragically Hip, Oasis, Stereophonics, Radiohead, Collective Soul, Toad the Wet Sprocket - heck, even Our Lady Peace put out a good album in the 90's! But today, we're going to go right back to the beginning, to 1990 itself. For this was a very good year, the year that Paul Simon made and/or released his world music stunner, The Rhythm of the Saints.

Fusing Simon's trademark sound with South American and African sounds and recorded in Brazil, The Rhythm of the Saints is a little bit short but very, very sweet. With his equation of creative genius, technical skill, and the gift of writing lyrics like "I believe you've lost the love of friendship" in relation to an ex-lover, Paul Simon is an artist whose musicianship is rivalled by few in general, and, in his genre, perhaps only by Bob Dylan. I mean, what can you say about a guy who wrote stuff in the 70's that doesn't sound out of date today? There are only so few adjectives before the praise just gets inane.

I've known Paul Simon was great ever since I was about nine years old, but he still manages to surprise me in the best of ways. The Rhythm of the Saints is a potent, energized story that's reflective but never dull. It's so good, it makes installing baseboards fun.

Reports of my ISP's demise have been greatly exaggerated?

Maybe the guy said "end of June" but actually meant "end of July." Either way, I'm not complaining!

Amidst the raft of insane news today is the good insane, being a developing story on how Colombian army black ops successfully infiltrated FARC leadership and tricked them into loading 15 hostages onto a helicopter FARC was convinced belonged to fellow rebels - now that's a shining example of what the black ops boys are for! - and the ludicrously bad insane, being Henry Morgentaler's induction into the Order of Canada. I won't expound too much here, as there are plenty of good arguments published today from both sides of the abortion debate as to why this is improper and undeserved (several were in The National Post, which maintains a website - I encourage you to check it out). One person interviewed by the Post hit the nail on the head when he compared Morgantaler receiving the Order to giving the Victoria Cross to a mercenary. The stated and self-defined purpose of The Order of Canada is to recognize people whom the majority of Canadians regard as a hero. With the country split almost evenly on whether or not abortion is ethical, and even the majority of pro-choicers supporting limits on things like abortions based on eugenics, and third-trimester abortions, Morgentaler's baffling induction proves that the selection committee was more concerned about their personal ideological and political biases than the purpose of the Order of Canada. I agree with the commentators who have gone so far as to say that his induction debases the award. And that bang-on mercenary comparison...here we have the Governor-General, honouring a man who forced the legalization of abortion not by bringing it to the legislature for debate and enactment - Morgentaler could never be bothered to do anything so pedestrian - but by opening an illegal clinic, and denying all concepts of medical ethics by railing against any attempts at creating acceptable limits, like the afore-mentioned eugenic and third-trimester abortions. When even a large segment of the pro-choice movement considers him to be irrational and dangerous, you have to wonder what the selection committee was thinking.

In better Order of Canada news, former BTO member and new jazz man Randy Bachman has also been inducted. I'm not a fan of BTO, but it was a very important band. And I love Bachman's gorgeous, sultry jazz work. He's made huge contributions to the Canadian music industry, and the people love him. Congratulations, Randy!

On a completely different note, Entertainment Weekly's Popwatch blog posted something today that made me laugh so hard (in a good way) that tears were streaming down my face. The blogger is petitioning folks to share their misheard lyrics experiences, and the slightly embarrassed bonding taking place in the comments section is absolutely priceless. One brave soul admitted to having always misheard Chumbawumba's "Tubthumping" as being about not being able to find a towel upon exiting the bath (as she noted, the song is called TUBthumping!); another brought me joy by revealing that he heard the opening lyrics of "Brown Eyed Girl" - 'Hey where did we go' - as "Hey Amigo", several people revealed that they'd always heard "Secret Agent Man" as "Secret Asian Man", and a mother shared her three year-old's take on that perpetually misheard childhood classic, the chorus of "Puff the Magic Dragon". I threw my hat into the ring by admitting that, for over a decade, I thought the chorus to the Crash Test Dummies' Tarzan/Superman song was "Superman never made any money saving the world from Sodom and Gundy" - I figured, just because I didn't know what a gundy was didn't mean it wasn't a plausible lyric. Thanks to The Long Halloween, I know about DC universe villain Solomon Grundy, and, for the first time in my life, know the right words to the song. Hooray! I also couldn't resist sharing with the world that, even after showing him the track list on the album cover, Corey still hears "She's got a ticket to ride" as "She's got a chicken to ride". I think that's priceless. You can read the comments in full here. I highly recommend it. It'll make your day.

Surprise Symphony

No, not the Handel one. I'm talking about Anton Bruckner's Symphony #5, which ended my channel-surfing when I found it on PBS last night. I have no idea which orchestra was performing it, and I generally don't care to watch orchestras on TV because you get all the close-ups of the musicians, and anyone who's been part of an orchestra knows just how funny-looking you are when intensely concentrating and making the assortment of funny faces required to play a woodwind, brass, or reed...but this music caught me and held on tight. I'd never heard of this man before, not being too familiar with the Romantic era, but was immediately taken by the enormous creativity and surprising and innovative, yet perfectly coherent, turns of his symphony. The third-to-last movement, especially...never saw that ending coming, but man, was it brilliant.

A quick Google search reveals that Anton Bruckner, born in Austria, was a quiet, unassuming man who didn't self-promote or seek fame like most of his contemporaries. A devout Roman Catholic, he composed solely for the church until, at the age of 40, he met Wagner and was introduced to the (at the time) new concept of being able to break the established rules of composition while still creating big, powerful music, and at 60 he became famous for the first time on the strength of his 7th symphony.

I am indebted to PBS for this delightful discovery, and hope to score a couple of albums one of these days.

Honk!

So I don't have a lot of lurkers....really, very few indeed....but my blog being a good diversion for Rachel is enough to keep using bandwidth with impunity. To respond to her question, I would love to do freelance journalism, but have no clue where to start breaking into it, especially with no formal training or connections.

To celebrate the honking, and the $20 of disposable income I recently came into contact with, I took myself down to the local HMV and found, in the 2 for $25 section, exactly what I was hoping to find: a copy of Once and Revolver (the Beatles album, not the Guy Ritchie film).

I've already posted a review of Once on my Facebook; in a nutshell, it is the single most satisfying musical I've ever seen. It's the right tone, the right length, has no superfluous scenes, the characters are truly identifiable - and its exploration of love and consequence is - and I never say this lightly - beautiful and pure. How often do you see a film that tells the truth about the nature of love? Even after seeing Iron Man, it's still my favourite film seen this year.

If you've never listened to Revolver, you've really missed out. Compilation discs like the "red" and "blue" albums, Past Masters vols. 1 and 2, and Beatles 1 have good songs, to be sure, but I've never been a fan of one-band compilations, because I don't believe there is anything that compares to the pure sonic pleasure of a well-produced album. And Revolver is extremely well-produced. I'm having a hard time describing it; what can I say? It's a great album, it's happy place music (with the exception of track 2, "Eleanor Rigby"...and yet, even that makes me happy, not because my name is Eleanor but because the song is so freakin' good). I owned it once, long ago, and lost it, and am thrilled to be able to listen to it again. Even if you don't like the Beatles, or perhaps naively think you don't like "oldies" - which is silly, as that encompasses such a wide range of styles; are you sure you don't like any of them? - you should listen to this album, start to finish, just once. It's an experience.

I will surely have reason to post again before then, but if you hold on to your hats for two more weeks, this space will have a review of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull - part of my birthday present! Corey asks me if I want a surprise, I say, well, I told you what I want for my birthday so it shouldn't be a surprise, but if it's something I didn't ask for then I don't want to know, and then he says, I took that day off and I'm taking you to the movies. My husband is odd, and I love him very much.

If all goes according to plan, you'll also have a review of what I actually requested for my birthday, the Batman graphic novel The Long Halloween (which I'm more excited for than Indiana Jones, to tell the truth. I guess I've seen a lot of good movies lately, but have been lacking in books).