Russian Circles: Empros

Beauty and bruises don’t usually go hand-in-hand, but it does for Russian Circles. Their instrumentals are heavy, but the band has soothing passages along the way. This has been the bands formula that sets it apart from all the run-of-the-mill post-rock that inhibits independent music. Darkness and light flow in and out as a complete, non-stop passage.

“Schiphol,” off new album Empros, appears with some acoustic picking while slight guitar feedback comes in and out like passing cars. This comes just after Russian Circles was in full attack mode for the ending of "Mládek," relentlessly pounding away for 30 seconds. Empros is the band’s fourth full-length, taking everything its learned to this point and applying it here. Empros is an adventure through sound; walls torn down and then rebuilt.

Disliking Russian Circles is practically impossible. Some moments of Empros will inflect paralysis, but this isn’t new territory for the band. Station, their second album for Suicide Squeeze, is where the Circles started to tighten up after the manic melodic psychosis of Enter, the bands first LP. Empros, for Sargent House –– it still stuns, but the atmosphere seems different. It’s a new recording technique that makes the band sound like its playing in a huge factory space. Empros starts with “309,” lurching out into a full stampede. Eventually, bassist Brian Cook (formerly of These Arms Are Snakes and Botch) slides up and down his bass neck, creating treble that could make a building collapse. Russian Circles would be a fine metal band in its own right, but they like to explore and experiment. Cook mentioned in an interview with Decibel that he’d never construct an album “from the ground up” again, like Russian Circles did for Empros. The work may have been hard for Cook, guitarist Mike Sullivan, and drummer Dave Turncrantz, but that may be why the output is so precise and listenable.

While the Circles’ music is complex, it’s also confident. The band has built off the grandiose strings of third album Geneva, bringing in even more strings for Empros. It’s the layering of guitars that creates a looming sense of atmosphere. Out of left field drum parts from Turncrantz, overwhelming bass rumbles from Cook, and even more layering of guitars fill space. There’s some serious concentration here.

Heavier, and just plain more bizarre than any prior record, Empros reaches alien structures of progressive rock. The band is floored for 35 minutes, until the album closes with “Praise By Man,” which has some vocals by Cook. Vocals on a Russian Circles album are few and far between, but “Praise” works gorgeously. Failure is not an option. After all that pummel and obscurity, “Praise” leaves a lasting sense of hope.

Oh, those Lions

Frustration, frustration. The Detroit Lions need a vacation. Or, a hug?

For the second straight week, Detroit shot itself in the foot with moronic penalties. Didn't the team learn its lesson after Ndamukong Suh's Thanksgiving stomp against Green Bay? The fall out from that is way worse than anyone could have imagined.

As an NFL viewer, it boggles my mind. Eleven penalties for 107 yards on Sunday night against New Orleans, a team that leaves no, not even a spec, of room for error. I'm questioning Head Coach Jim Schwartz's discipline with his players. This can't happen for a team that's fighting for its first playoff spot in 12 years.

Half, if not most, of the Lions' penalties were out of pure frustration. As NFL professionals, you must keep cool. Granted, I'm not an NFL player, and I know tension must be high, but you're paid the big bucks to act professionally. The most idiotic flag of the night came after Stefan Logan shoved a Saints player after a play in the third quarter. Logan was benched, never to return. Later, tight end Brandon Pettigrew was flagged for coming into contact with an official who was trying to stop him from laying a hand on a Saints' defensive back.

These bone-headed penalties whipped out some big, important plays that had significant impact on Sunday's game. The Saints won, 31 to 17, but it should have been way closer. If I were Schwartz right now, I'd be shitting 17 bricks. I expected him to be more pissed off than he was with his players, but he's a professional. The same can't be said for his team.

Detroit is a decent team; it has weapons –– quarterback Matthew Stafford threw for 408 yards on 31 completions on Sunday. The Lions were making plays, but many were negated by nonsense. For example, wide receiver Nate Burleson was called for offensive pass interference three times. Three times in a single game! That has to be a record. He wouldn't learn. He kept pushing his defender off.

There are disciplinary issues with the Lions. It's clear as day. It's good to be aggressive, but Detroit is trying too hard. While trying to be the "toughest" team in the NFL, its actually being the dumbest. The team isn't going to see the playoffs if it can't control its temper.
It's really aggravating to watch people kill themselves. I wonder how they feel?

Short story from years ago...

"Homestead"
By Jordan J. Michael

I wish I made tips like the waiters and waitresses. Sure, I cook, I cook damn well. I cook well enough to support a wife and two kids. I should get tips, I cook so well. I know, I’ll have the waiters and waitresses give me tips out of there tips, or something. I’m sounding a little desperate but that’s okay, right? We all get desperate sometimes. Desperate times call for desperate measures? Who said that?

Motown Steakhouse is known for famous steak, my famous steak. I’ve been the top chef here for thirty years. I practically own this place. I don’t take shit from anybody. It doesn’t matter if you’re a customer or an employee. Company’s always say that “the customer is always right.” That’s not always true. The customer can be wrong. The customer can be an asshole.

I just recently hired a new dish boy. His name is Earl. Earl’s been messing up lately. I think I have to let him go. He’s the worst dishwasher I’ve ever seen. I backed Earl into a corner.

“Hey Earl! I’m sorry but I have to fire you?” I said.

“You’re serious?” said Earl.

“Yeah, you can’t wash a dish for shit. You can wash a dish, but not fast enough. We have a lot of people eating here everyday because this place is famous. We need a fast dishwasher,” I said.

So that was it for Earl. Poor kid, he’s only sixteen. He rode his bike here everyday after school. It was an eight-mile bike ride, too. Not easy. He would have to ride eight miles back in the dark, too. That’s even worse. I fired him anyway. Motown Steakhouse needs serious employees.

Homestead Dr. is a nice road. Beautiful people live on this road. I love driving by houses slowly, especially at night. It freaks people out. Not that anyone on this road should be scared. I’ve watched my two sons grow up in this neighborhood without a threat of danger. Nothing happens here, except sunshine and smiles.

My two sons are twenty and twenty-two, respectively. Tim is twenty, Jimmy is twenty-two. They’re both in college, but its summer. They get a vacation. I never do. Tim and Jimmy love when I bring leftover’s from work. I usually do. Peggy, my wife, is so very nice. She never complains, never complains about a thing. I wouldn’t have married a woman that always bitched.

I know that no one in my house is asleep. We stay up so late in the summer. Motown Steakhouse never serves breakfast. I don’t have to be at work until 10am. Jimmy comes running out to me.

“Yo, dad, you got any steak tips?” says Jimmy.

“What if I did?” I said.

“I would eat them. I would eat them all, the whole fucking plate. There would be none left,” said Jimmy.

Jimmy was like that, real selfish. He rarely shared. Once, I asked if I could borrow his toothbrush on a camping trip. He said no. I mean hell, I’m his dad, and it’s just a toothbrush.

I was surprised to see the boys home. Its summer, which means their always out. Either at work or hanging out with friends. I watched a movie with the boys. Peggy was already in bed, exhausted. The movie was called Minutemen, a real shocker. This movie is based around a kidnapping, a murder, and a stolen pair of shoes. The stolen pair of shoes is the key. I passed out before it was over.

Friday’s are killer at Motown Steakhouse. We make at least a million dollars on Friday. I hate when people want their burger well done. It takes too long to cook. I wouldn’t mind if it was say, Tuesday? I threw a can of pickles at Donny. I may be fifty years old, but I can still throw a decent fastball. The pickle jar busted right next to Donny’s head.

“Are you out of your finger-licking mind, man?” said Donny.

“You know it. I go crazy on Friday’s, you know. Come on, throw something back,” I said.

He ignored me and made a grilled chicken salad.

I knew the boys would be gone, it was Friday. Peggy doesn’t mind having the house to herself. Peggy likes to walk around naked when no one is home. I called for Peggy, no answer. I called her name again, no answer. I noticed that our big screen TV was missing from the living room. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and slowly made my way upstairs. I found Peggy at the top of the stairs, naked. Her head had been hit by a blunt object. She had marks on her neck, looking as if she had been choked out. Peggy was dead, no pulse. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I get angry when I’m sad.

The boys and I hosted a nice funeral for Peggy. A lot of the family was there, dressed in all black on a humid July afternoon. One by one, paying their respects. I still couldn’t cry. Tim and Jimmy couldn’t cry either. We we’re strong individuals.

The phone was for me. I rarely get phone calls at work. If I do get a call, something is wrong. Phone calls at work are never good news.

“Dad, its Jimmy. You need to come home immediately.”

“Why? Is it that important? You guys are adults,” I said.

“Yeah, we are. However, this shit is crazy, man,” said Jimmy.

“Alright, I’m coming home, but this better be good,” I said.

Tim and Jimmy we’re laying on the floor. Peggy was sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette. Peggy never smoked a cigarette in her life. She was fresh out of the coffin. I never thought the dead could rise. Apparently, I was wrong. This wasn’t a dream, it was really happening.

“Go get me another pack of smokes will ya?” said Peggy.

“Mom just came back, sat down and started smoking cigarettes. She told us to clean the house from top to bottom,” said Tim.

“Peggy, you don’t smoke?” I said.

“I do now asshole, get me another pack or I’ll put this one out in your eye socket,” said Peggy.

Peggy ripped her arm out of her socket and itched her ass. She spun her head 360 degrees.

“Isn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever seen? Now, go grill me a fucking steak,” said Peggy.

Never going to go away...

What was Matt Lowe thinking on that pitch? A fastball down the middle to a dangerous hitter in the 11th inning of the World Series?
Wow.
However, lets not give all of the credit to Lowe, Texas' last-ditch reliever. St. Louis' David Freese gave that pitch a ride, to straight center, to guarantee a game seven on Friday. Before his game-winning home run, Freese tripled to the wall in the 9th inning, driving in two runs to force extra innings.
Wow. Lowe must have known Freese was hot, but he still threw him a fastball down the middle in the 11th?
Freese was raised in the St. Louis area, so he celebrated his game-winning home run as a player and as a true Cardinals fan. In his post game interview, Freese gave credit to manager Tony La Russa for preparing his team for all of its incredible comebacks this season. St. Louis got into the playoffs after being down 10 games with about a month to play, and was down to its final strike twice in game six. It was a nice gesture to La Russa, who found himself in the middle of the controversy after the Cardinals made a costly bullpen error in game four, which led to a loss.
Ladies and Gentlemen, whether the St. Louis Cardinals win the 2011 World Series or not, it will forever be known as the team that never went away.

Phil Simms loves the Jets?

Excellent win by the New England Patriots at home on Sunday against the New York Jets. Tom Brady got astonishing run support from BenJarvus Green-Ellis, who totaled 136 yards and two touchdowns.

The final score was 30 to 21, but don't be fooled. The Jets didn't get that close. New England ran all over New York and Brady completed many passes for many yards (321), per usual.

However, I had an issue with Phil Simms' commentating during the game. It seemed like he was on the Jets' side. This is bad because NFL commentators should never, ever be biased. Call it both ways, evenly. Simms did not.

When Jets' corner back Darrelle Revis got beat by Wes Welker for a 73-yard pass play to open the third quarter, Simms praised Revis for catching Welker for the tackle. Granted, it was a nice tackle, but Revis got beat! Simms didn't have much to say about Welker's route or speed as a receiver.

Simms did say some encouraging things about the Patriots, but his endearment for the Jets far outweighed whatever he said about New England. I thought Simms was a Giants fan?

Another example of Simms' weird behavior came towards the end of the game when the Jets were trying to make it close, ultimately failing. Simms kept making specific points about what New York should do, like he was their coach. Clearly, he wanted the Jets to succeed on Sunday.

Simms, you were a great quarterback and you know your football knowledge, but please don't be biased towards one team during a broadcast.

Weird Light

OK, so, a cop car was parked across the street for an extended period of time. The officer inside said cop car was repeatably shinning a spotlight on a house across the street. This came after I saw a cop shine a flashlight around the house. I have no idea why. Was someone in the house? Am I going crazy? Yes.

The Weeknd: Thursday

After astonishing the underground music scene with the progressive soul of House of Balloons in March, The Weeknd continues to spin heads with Thursday, another free mixtape –– the second part of a trilogy. The third part is named Echoes of Silence and could come out at any moment. Abel Tesfaye, who goes by stage name The Weeknd, is only 21 years old, but way ahead of the game. He throws in everything from hip-hop to post-dubstep to everything in between and inside out.

Thursday eclipses many different moods –– happiness, hysteria, anxiety, speculation, etc. The second track, "Life Of the Party," has a sinister chorus that will melt the faces of industrial music fans. The Weeknd has the talent of sounding both mysterious and inviting at the same time. House of Balloons' lyrics were heavy on sex and drugs and Thursday has its moments. On "The Birds Part 1," Tesfaye sings, "Don't make me make you fall in love with a nigga like me" behind a rolling snare drum and squeaking guitar feedback. The song comes down with a pleasing acoustic guitar passage before "The Birds Part 2" begins with sounds of a girl crying. The song ends with sounds of yelling birds. "Gone," topping out at eight minutes, is a bass heavy track with finger snaps and a middle section of dreamy humming by Tesfaye, who goes on to sing "fuck me while I'm faded" over a narcotic beat.

There are surprises throughout. The acoustic guitar comes back with hand drums for "Rolling Stone," a pretty, emotive walk through some of Thursday's most stripped down, but best sounds. The song ends with guitar feedback and it's on to "Heaven Or Las Vegas," a fantastic finale. The track is dominated by a pulsating Rastafarian bass line, which emerges at the 1:50 mark, continuing alongside electronic flourishes.

The music hits on a high level, but The Weeknd's voice is a marvel. Tesfaye's vocal chords are laced with soul and R&B and it's hypnotic to say the least. Closing your eyes during Thursday is a smart idea, but don't fall asleep because you'll miss something meaningful.