Army of Two (EA Montreal)
Third-person co-operative shooter
Rated M for Mature
PRO:
As the name suggests, it cannot be played alone and requires improved teamwork and communication skills, as it prevents you from completing missions if your buddy is dead (unlike Halo, one person can't just carry you through). It also involves and/or requires actions like flanking, covering, drawing fire away from your buddy so that they can take someone out or because they're injured or re-loading, moving objects or scaling walls that can't be done without help, and dragging your wounded buddy to cover so that you can patch them up before they bleed to death and you get an automatic game over. If you don't have a live buddy handy, the game provides you with a very decent virtual one.
CON:
The split-screen can be tough viewing at some points, unless you have a really big TV. The enemies are pretty small.
PRO:
You don't have to keep checking the split-screen to know what your buddy's up to if he's out of your line of sight, thanks to an inset camera on your half of the screen that follows him.
CON:
Not for the politically correct, as the game centers around the military-vs.PMC (private military contractors) debate, and places you in real-life hot spots like Somalia, Iraq, and Afghanistan. There is one particular mission in which your biggest danger is suicide bombers, and one of the game's Xbox achievements is setting off 25 suicide bombers before they can set themselves off.
PRO:
A fun arsenal of unlockable, buyable weapons that includes an interesting assortment of assault rifles, sidearms, sniper rifles, RPGs, and machine guns. Most of them have available upgrades for the barrel, stock, cartridge, suppressor, and/or frountmount, as well as on-the-barrel shields.
CON:
You can only swap out your weapons at set points in the game, and as far as I can tell, can't decide what your virtual buddy is packing.
PRO:
This results in interesting decisions, if you've already played the game, or interesting strategies if you haven't played the game and find yourself in a scenario in which your equipped weapons are not really the right tools for the job. However, you can swap your primary, secondary, or special weapon with your partner at any time.
CON:
I always forget that you can swap weapons with your partner.
PRO:
One of the character's lines when in "Overkill" mode is "Game over, man! Game over!".
CON:
People tend to swear a lot when they're getting shot at. This can be a put-off to some gamers.
PRO:
One of the achievements involves making like Dirty Harry.
CON:
Viewing the achievements leads to plot spoilers, such as purpose of the achievement that involves making like Dirty Harry.
PRO:
You probably saw that plot point coming from a mile away, anyways.
CONSENSUS:
Silly but fun.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Best Dialogue on TV Tonight
Heard on a repeat of Fringe:
"Well, it's like I always say: if the government's covering something up, it must be Tuesday."
Is a reference to: the famed UFO/weather balloon crash at Roswell. Apparently, the official government statement regarding the crash was released on a Tuesday.
I feel like I've heard this line somewhere else before, but can't place it. Can you?
"Well, it's like I always say: if the government's covering something up, it must be Tuesday."
Is a reference to: the famed UFO/weather balloon crash at Roswell. Apparently, the official government statement regarding the crash was released on a Tuesday.
I feel like I've heard this line somewhere else before, but can't place it. Can you?
Saturday, January 9, 2010
The Other Postman. Unleash the hounds.
Last night, I made one of the classic movie-watching blunders: forgetting that it is directors, not writers, who have the final say on the end product. Eric Roth and Brian Helgeland are excellent screenwriters, but when you're writing for a director whose primary obsessions are epic scenery, gratuitous and very realistic sex, and the American Civil War, there's only so much you can do to help.
The Postman, by David Brin, is one of the greatest reads ever. The Postman, directed by and starring Kevin Costner, is just a few steps shy of being sufficiently over the top to qualify as a Hapless Shitstorm, a genre coined by my friend Andre to describe Baz Luhrman's Australia. The Postman is not just a bad movie, it's an empty one. That's the best description I can come up with: empty. The Postman lives up to its legendary reputation for dullness and then some. Very little happens in its 178 minutes, which I suppose is an impressive feat in its own way. On top of that, Costner forced the story into an epic Civil War allegory, a baffling move that can best be described as a critical failure. Even if you don't take into account its source material and consider the film as a distinct story in its own right, it's still a story that doesn't make any sense. Ignoring everything that made Brin's story interesting, filled instead with said nonsensical allegory and lots and lots of scenery, and basically given the Paul Verhoeven treatment, a condition in which a director reads part of a great book and decides that it would be a way better story if he completely missed, ignored and/or discarded the book's theme, thesis, and message, and replaced it with his own, The Postman is as boring as it is pointless.
(Paul Verhoeven got hired to direct a film version of Robert A. Heinlein's Starship Troopers, by his own admission read only the prologue and thought it was too boring to read any further, and then went on to make what I would crown the king of Hapless Shitstorms (disclaimer: I have not seen Australia) whose cherry on top is the fact that its theme, message, and portrayal of the military are in every way the antithesis of Heinlein's. Costner's Postman is similar in structure, except that instead of being an antithesis, it's just more or less nothing at all. As I said, empty. I have no idea whether or not Costner read all of The Postman, but the film's content suggests that he never made it past chapter five.)
Avoid at all costs.
The Postman, by David Brin, is one of the greatest reads ever. The Postman, directed by and starring Kevin Costner, is just a few steps shy of being sufficiently over the top to qualify as a Hapless Shitstorm, a genre coined by my friend Andre to describe Baz Luhrman's Australia. The Postman is not just a bad movie, it's an empty one. That's the best description I can come up with: empty. The Postman lives up to its legendary reputation for dullness and then some. Very little happens in its 178 minutes, which I suppose is an impressive feat in its own way. On top of that, Costner forced the story into an epic Civil War allegory, a baffling move that can best be described as a critical failure. Even if you don't take into account its source material and consider the film as a distinct story in its own right, it's still a story that doesn't make any sense. Ignoring everything that made Brin's story interesting, filled instead with said nonsensical allegory and lots and lots of scenery, and basically given the Paul Verhoeven treatment, a condition in which a director reads part of a great book and decides that it would be a way better story if he completely missed, ignored and/or discarded the book's theme, thesis, and message, and replaced it with his own, The Postman is as boring as it is pointless.
(Paul Verhoeven got hired to direct a film version of Robert A. Heinlein's Starship Troopers, by his own admission read only the prologue and thought it was too boring to read any further, and then went on to make what I would crown the king of Hapless Shitstorms (disclaimer: I have not seen Australia) whose cherry on top is the fact that its theme, message, and portrayal of the military are in every way the antithesis of Heinlein's. Costner's Postman is similar in structure, except that instead of being an antithesis, it's just more or less nothing at all. As I said, empty. I have no idea whether or not Costner read all of The Postman, but the film's content suggests that he never made it past chapter five.)
Avoid at all costs.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
The Postman
About seven or eight months ago, I borrowed a copy of David Brin's The Postman from some friends, and for seven or eight months it gathered dust on my coffee table as I was putting off reading it. I borrowed it in the first place because I'm familiar with Hugo-winner Brin for Startide Rising, but avoided it because in my head I had him confused with David Weber (best known for the Honor Harrington series), who I'm not crazy about. In fact, I bought a Weber book at this year's library sale, because in my head I was buying a Brin novel. Confused? I know I am.
Anyways, the point is, I finally read it, and it is the finest post-apocalyptic sci-fi book - and one of the finest post-apocalyptic sci-fi stories - I've ever come across.
The Postman (1985) opens in U.S. of A., year 2009, sixteen years after a nuclear war that has left the country in a state very similar that of the Fallout video game series, with protagonist Gordon Krantz fleeing for his life while simultaneously trying to reclaim all his worldly possessions after his camp is attacked by "survivalists", roaming terrors who thrive on death, destruction, and mutilating corpses, and who I wouldn't be surprised to hear were the direct inspiration for Fallout's raiders. Just eighteen when the first of the wars began, he has survived the interim, including a three-year long nuclear winter, first by joining a short-lived militia in the early days of the war and later by using his brain and the skills he learned in the militia he wanders the country trading plays and stories for food and shelter at the settlements scattered across the mid-west, thus proving that English Literature 101 may be useful in the event of a nuclear apocalypse after all. After surviving the opening attack on his camp, but losing all his posessions - making him as good as dead, out in the wild - in the course of his escape he stumbles across a derelict jeep containing the fully uniformed body of a pre-war postman, along with a big sack of official government mail regarding what would later be referred to as the Doomwar. Gordon is deeply stricken by this unexpected and most familiar of links to better days, and the fact that the postman was most likely ambushed while trying to deliver his cargo but pressed on as long as he could in an attempt to preserve his country, bringing to mind the U.S. Postal Service Oath to deliver the mail no matter what. He's also delighted to have the postman's warm uniform, and so takes it and the mailbag and continues on his way. At the next settlement he comes across, the residents decide that, regardless of how he came by it, now that he's put on the postman's uniform he is a postman. Recognizing the potential of this course of action, Gordon decides to re-open lines of communication and build up hope, instituting post offices, mail routes, and carriers in each subsequent settlement he comes to and even as going so far as to forge documents "proving" that there is a government out east which is working on restoring America. As the baby postal service grows, and people actually start getting letters from friends and family they thought were long dead, their hope and belief in the rebuilding of the country grows with it. Making the lie even easier to believe is the reasonable assumption that the post would be the only sustainable, wide-reaching federal service to continue after a holocaust, as all it requires is people willing to travel. Gordon is determined to keep the hope alive, but the bulk of the story's tension is found in his constant nervous state of wondering about when his lie will be revealed, and if it will have been successful enough for that revelation to not make a difference to the people.
However, all that's just the setting. The true story of The Postman is a calm, thought out, well-constructed examination of why people need other people, and how it is impossible for an organization, be it town or country, to survive and succeed if run by or consisting of only one type of person or group. This is subtly emphasized by how different each settlement Gordon visits is, in its structure, leadership, attitudes, and practices, and more strongly emphasized by the almost overwhelmingly destructive force of the survivalists. Brin even manages to tactfully deconstruct one of the major and very sensitive real-life socio-political arguments of his time, though I imagine it would not be hard for a certain type of person to ignore everything else and claim The Postman as a feminist manifesto. It is because Brin is so calm that it could be very easy to ignore all the subtle elements that build the core of his message and cling to one of the stronger ones, but ultimately The Postman remains a powerful and successful argument for why no one ideological group can successfully rule or survive on its own.
On top of that, Brin's writing style is incredibly easy to engage. Casual and flowing, his voice in this book feels like a cross between late-50's-early 60's Robert A. Heinlein (Starship Troopers, Stranger in a Strange Land), late-90's Stephen King (Hearts in Atlantis, The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon), and Harry Harrison (Make Room! Make Room!, the Stainless Steel Rat books) minus the hysterics. It opens well, it ends well, has a very reasonable take on the future which is our present, and contains one the most beautifully blunt foreshadowings I've come across. Packed with thoughts and visuals, The Postman somehow manages to never stop flowing, or even slow down. That to me is a most impressive accomplishment - that most famous of descriptive writers, Tolkien, wrote gorgeous visual paragraphs that are well worth taking the time to read, but generally stop the story dead. Brin's visuals are nowhere near as detailed as Tolkien's, but they are full and whole, and his world, protagonist, and secondary characters are both complete and engaging straight 'til the end.
I've never seen the 1997 Kevin Costner film based on this book, and have believed the rumours regarding its legendary dullness as the only Costner-directed film I have seen and enjoyed is 2003's Open Range. However, after reading The Postman, I'm now quite interested in its screen adaptation. Costner is a thinker, and I'd like to see his take on this story. Seeing that the screenplay was written by Brian Helegeland (L.A. Confidential, Conspiracy Theory) and Eric Roth (Munich, The Good Shepherd) more or less confirms that I'll be watching The Postman pretty soon.
In the meantime, I highly recommend The Postman as reading material, even if you've seen and hated the movie. It's a fantastic book, a smart story, and appears to have significantly influenced many aspects of Fallout 3, so if you enjoyed that series I can't think of a single reason why you won't enjoy this book. And if you hate video games with a passion, as some people dear to me do, I still can't think of a single reason why you won't consider The Postman to have been an excellent use of your time.
Anyways, the point is, I finally read it, and it is the finest post-apocalyptic sci-fi book - and one of the finest post-apocalyptic sci-fi stories - I've ever come across.
The Postman (1985) opens in U.S. of A., year 2009, sixteen years after a nuclear war that has left the country in a state very similar that of the Fallout video game series, with protagonist Gordon Krantz fleeing for his life while simultaneously trying to reclaim all his worldly possessions after his camp is attacked by "survivalists", roaming terrors who thrive on death, destruction, and mutilating corpses, and who I wouldn't be surprised to hear were the direct inspiration for Fallout's raiders. Just eighteen when the first of the wars began, he has survived the interim, including a three-year long nuclear winter, first by joining a short-lived militia in the early days of the war and later by using his brain and the skills he learned in the militia he wanders the country trading plays and stories for food and shelter at the settlements scattered across the mid-west, thus proving that English Literature 101 may be useful in the event of a nuclear apocalypse after all. After surviving the opening attack on his camp, but losing all his posessions - making him as good as dead, out in the wild - in the course of his escape he stumbles across a derelict jeep containing the fully uniformed body of a pre-war postman, along with a big sack of official government mail regarding what would later be referred to as the Doomwar. Gordon is deeply stricken by this unexpected and most familiar of links to better days, and the fact that the postman was most likely ambushed while trying to deliver his cargo but pressed on as long as he could in an attempt to preserve his country, bringing to mind the U.S. Postal Service Oath to deliver the mail no matter what. He's also delighted to have the postman's warm uniform, and so takes it and the mailbag and continues on his way. At the next settlement he comes across, the residents decide that, regardless of how he came by it, now that he's put on the postman's uniform he is a postman. Recognizing the potential of this course of action, Gordon decides to re-open lines of communication and build up hope, instituting post offices, mail routes, and carriers in each subsequent settlement he comes to and even as going so far as to forge documents "proving" that there is a government out east which is working on restoring America. As the baby postal service grows, and people actually start getting letters from friends and family they thought were long dead, their hope and belief in the rebuilding of the country grows with it. Making the lie even easier to believe is the reasonable assumption that the post would be the only sustainable, wide-reaching federal service to continue after a holocaust, as all it requires is people willing to travel. Gordon is determined to keep the hope alive, but the bulk of the story's tension is found in his constant nervous state of wondering about when his lie will be revealed, and if it will have been successful enough for that revelation to not make a difference to the people.
However, all that's just the setting. The true story of The Postman is a calm, thought out, well-constructed examination of why people need other people, and how it is impossible for an organization, be it town or country, to survive and succeed if run by or consisting of only one type of person or group. This is subtly emphasized by how different each settlement Gordon visits is, in its structure, leadership, attitudes, and practices, and more strongly emphasized by the almost overwhelmingly destructive force of the survivalists. Brin even manages to tactfully deconstruct one of the major and very sensitive real-life socio-political arguments of his time, though I imagine it would not be hard for a certain type of person to ignore everything else and claim The Postman as a feminist manifesto. It is because Brin is so calm that it could be very easy to ignore all the subtle elements that build the core of his message and cling to one of the stronger ones, but ultimately The Postman remains a powerful and successful argument for why no one ideological group can successfully rule or survive on its own.
On top of that, Brin's writing style is incredibly easy to engage. Casual and flowing, his voice in this book feels like a cross between late-50's-early 60's Robert A. Heinlein (Starship Troopers, Stranger in a Strange Land), late-90's Stephen King (Hearts in Atlantis, The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon), and Harry Harrison (Make Room! Make Room!, the Stainless Steel Rat books) minus the hysterics. It opens well, it ends well, has a very reasonable take on the future which is our present, and contains one the most beautifully blunt foreshadowings I've come across. Packed with thoughts and visuals, The Postman somehow manages to never stop flowing, or even slow down. That to me is a most impressive accomplishment - that most famous of descriptive writers, Tolkien, wrote gorgeous visual paragraphs that are well worth taking the time to read, but generally stop the story dead. Brin's visuals are nowhere near as detailed as Tolkien's, but they are full and whole, and his world, protagonist, and secondary characters are both complete and engaging straight 'til the end.
I've never seen the 1997 Kevin Costner film based on this book, and have believed the rumours regarding its legendary dullness as the only Costner-directed film I have seen and enjoyed is 2003's Open Range. However, after reading The Postman, I'm now quite interested in its screen adaptation. Costner is a thinker, and I'd like to see his take on this story. Seeing that the screenplay was written by Brian Helegeland (L.A. Confidential, Conspiracy Theory) and Eric Roth (Munich, The Good Shepherd) more or less confirms that I'll be watching The Postman pretty soon.
In the meantime, I highly recommend The Postman as reading material, even if you've seen and hated the movie. It's a fantastic book, a smart story, and appears to have significantly influenced many aspects of Fallout 3, so if you enjoyed that series I can't think of a single reason why you won't enjoy this book. And if you hate video games with a passion, as some people dear to me do, I still can't think of a single reason why you won't consider The Postman to have been an excellent use of your time.
Two Gentlemen of Lebowski
Much thanks to the crew at EW.com's Popwatch blog for bringing this to my attention. Warning: will only be appreciated by those who have seen and enjoyed the Cohen brother's cult bowling-noir classic The Big Lebowski.
The Gift That Keeps On Giving
...Is, in this case, J.J. Abram's Star Trek. We won a copy at Corey's company Christmas party, much to our delight. Cor's co-worker, our friend Tim, would have liked that particular door prize, but we all knew it would be borrowed anyways so it's all good. Then, I enacted our plan to buy my mother-in-law a copy of that same movie for Christmas. And then, on Christmas day, I opened a present from that same mother-in-law, and tucked away beneath Kung-Fu Panda, Up, and Keith Green's greatest hits lay...
Well, guess what we got Tim for Christmas this year!
:D
Well, guess what we got Tim for Christmas this year!
:D
Thursday, December 10, 2009
(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.
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.
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