Power Overwhelming?

During my high school and early college days I was a gamer. By the time I hit my gaming stride at 14 years old I'd already maimed my hands on the NES Rectangle of Pain, ruined my eyes by staring, too close and unblinking, at myriad TV screens and gotten intimidatingly good at Street Fighter 2. After a middle school spent transitioning into computer geekdom - assembling boxes from parts and getting my first taste of online multiplayer through Doom II and Duke Nukem 3D - I entered high school as a Computer Gamer. I'd taken One More Turn a million times in Civilization 2, racked up a Flawless Victory in Red Alert and co-founded one of the more skilled and successful Jedi Knight clans on the MSN Gaming Zone.

And then, in the summer of 1998 at a computer show at a nondescript Hilton Hotel, I found StarCraft.

Neon Trees Are Terrible... in Awesomeness

I want to hate Utah pop-punk outfit Neon Trees. I want to loathe this band with every ounce of taste I have. Their music is simply a conglomeration of every pop gimmick that's been popularized in rock music over the last ten years and the record lacks depth, soul and heart both musically and lyrically. There are songs on the band's debut, Habits that literally make me cringe. And yet... and yet there are moments on the record that approach pop perfection with dynamic rhythms, heroin-addictive hooks and beats so catchy they're practically pandemic.


Opener "Sins of My Youth" seems a direct musical rip from 2008's well-meaning but unrealized and annoying post-emo musical Razia's Shadow complete with forceful but non-evocative vocals trying to convey some emotion the vocal never delivers. It's a party song about regretting drugs and parties which, I suppose, is ironic but a sort of irony that is more irritating than clever. This flows into "Love and Affection" which fails to conjure anything close to either emotion with unimaginative melodies lifted from 2004 while "In the Next Room" would make Panic at the Disco wish someone really would close the Goddamn door so nobody would steal their vaudeville-meets-pop-punk shtick. With "Our War" the Forgive Durden circle is drawn to a close with a sedate, contemplative monologue preceding a mostly forgettable closer.

Despite all these issues, despite all these mediocre songs I cannot stop listening to this album. Why? Because of a four song stretch in the middle that makes for some of the best summer music of the year. "1983" is actually probably a stupid song, but as a 27 year-old my senses of the tune's flaws are obscured by nostalgia and its hooks piled upon hooks. "Girls and Boys in School" attacks with a high-hat and snare good enough to fill out the playlist at most indie-rock dance parties in 2006 while "Your Surrender" is a jumping, pounding, pogo-ing anthem of who-cares-what-because-this-chorus-is-so-fun.

None of this would be able to salvage the record, however, without "Animal" which is, I have to say, is an almost perfect pop song. It's nimble and agile, subtle pauses leading into quick, entrancing movements. It has hooks, sing-a-longs, and just enough 2001 garage-rock affect to temper the singer's over-indulgent vocal. The result is a hot, hot, hot song that if their label marketed it smartly, would be an instant mainstream hit. It's exuberance and youth bottled and rendered in 0s and 1s.

Habits spends most of its time mimicking sounds of the band's successful predecessors and in many cases the failings of the songs are more failings of the source than of Neon Trees. When the band hits on something good, however, it's fucking electric.

Real Life Hot Tub Time Machine

Before last weekend the last time I was in a cabin it was filled with several eager Cub Scouts sleeping in barracks-style bunk beds eating food prepared on either campfire or wood-burning stove. It was a far cry from the cabin-style luxury condo I've just returned from equipped with a full kitchen, three bedrooms, three bathrooms, comfortable couches, two plasma screen TVs, a pool table and a hot tub. Of all it's amenities, however, the greatest was its ability to transport me back to a simpler, easier time of my life.

On Mermaids, Crowds and Drunk Russians

Some of the best times to be had in New York City come from unexpected places. Deviating from a pre-made plan often leads to amazing, singularly New York experiences.

Ohio Through Fresh Eyes

In 2006 I was chomping at the bit to get out of Ohio. I was on the tail end of four years in Columbus capping 23 years total in the state. Anxiety and frustration flowed through my veins like blood and alcohol and my impatient restlessness was at its peak. I'd been wanting to leave since I was 13 years old, dying to go off in search of some sense of purpose and belonging.

As I drove off in that U-Haul in the mid-August heat there's no way I could have predicted how comfortable I'd feel coming back.

Notes From a Bus Terminal

The plan was to leave work early, go home, get my luggage, and take a train, a train and a bus to Laguardia. The plan was to board AirTran flight 208to Akron. The plan was to spend a night in Cleveland and drive to Cincinnati the following day for a Memorial Day weekend that was a housewarming and reunion all rolled into one.

As they say, "The best laid plans of mice and men go oft awry and leave us naught but grief and pain."

A Brooklyn Tattoo From Brooklyn Tattoo

I was perusing Facebook last Friday and noticed that a friend of mine was attending an event at Brooklyn Tattoo on Smith Street and Atlantic in Brooklyn. Curious, I clicked through and arrived at one of the more impulsive decisions I've recently made.