I STILL LOVE YOU, PAUL.
Here is my unsolicited review of Paul McCartney’s McCartney II, which I bought today because it was $6 at the used record store. I am not a music critic, but I feel obligated to do my best.
Skip this song, listen to any Talking Heads song through 1980 instead.
Unquestionably the greatest three minutes of Paul’s solo career. Period. That includes Wings.
ON THE WAY
I can’t stand straight blues music and most of its close relatives. Zero points awarded. Listen to a real blues song instead.
I have no idea what TLC saw in this painfully boring song. Whatever it was, they managed to squeeze a better, more relevant song out of it than Paul did. (Polar Bears???)
Hi, I’m Paul McCartney. I have heard a Chuck Berry song once. I will now prove that by writing a shitty Chuck Berry song. See Chuck Berry instead.
The worst video game music you will ever hear in your life. Play Megaman instead.
SUMMER’S DAY SONG
I have been to more exciting funerals.
Cool song if you like pentatonic music and calling people “Jap,” which I’m almost certain was not an OK thing to do even in 1980. The handclaps are a nice touch. See Bowie’s China Girl instead.
Every note of this song instantly feels offensive in all manner of ways. If I were Sasha Frere-Jones I could probably explain why. But I’m not, so just take my word for it.
Thank you, Paul McCartney, for making spontaneous sex in a room with only hot red lights sound like something only old people do.
ONE OF THESE DAYS
This song should come with free lukewarm bathwater and a box of razor blades. The whole box, yes. Just in case you mess up the first time and are still able to hear the song.
Closing remarks: Points awarded for trying out synthesizers, points subtracted for not using them as well as almost everybody else who was making records at this time. I am more familiar with the music made after and possibly in response to this album, so points awarded for inspiring other musicians to do this, but points subtracted for not doing it as effectively. Extra points deducted for the unsettling facial expression on the front of the album. I can only believe that you sat on a whole pineapple and it went someplace bad. And just because you can play pretty much every musical instrument ever invented doesn’t mean you should. Inviting other people to be on your record is not a sign of weakness, and it probably would have helped fill out the spare arrangements.
I will end on a positive note by saying that Paul completely redeems himself many years later on Chaos And Creation In The Backyard, a seamless “Classic Paul” record with real fun and warmth, and an effortless flow. Many, many points awarded. (Due in no small part to Nigel Godrich’s tough love and trademark spookiness.)
I need Jared Leto’s Joker like I need a storage unit, like an abandoned storage unit on one of these dumb auction shows, filled with dead horses. The lady opens up the thing, you immediately choke on the stench cloud, and then you realize you just blew a thousand dollars on a putrid communal horse coffin.
Also, and maybe you people know what I’m talking about when I say this: I’m sick till Christmas of the “Kubrick Stare.” The Kubrick Stare is a popular facial expression that is created when men who are supposed to be either mad or a genius or both (because “crazy” and “genius” are synonyms in our culture now), tilt their head down and look up with their eyes so it looks like they’re some kind of tortured social outcast who is just too cool for school because insanity is just so trendy.
The Kubrick Stare is used in every Stanley Kubrick film. I’m not sure, but I think Ebert coined that term. It is most notably featured in Clockwork Orange (you can see that mascara eyeball peeking up from under that stupid hat) and The Shining, when Nicholson (who will always be the best Joker, period) is staring out the window at his family playing in the snow with a perfect “Hey I’m so cool I belong in a mental hospital, isn’t that cool? Isn’t my strangeness endearing, hey pay attention to me!” face on his face.
It’s an expression that is meant to suggest that this special crazy snowflake is evil, but not really evil enough to actually butcher the wife and kids with an axe in real life. It’s magazine cover evil at best. In America, we like our evil to be amusing and edgy for the cameras, but we expect it to stop when the movie’s over. But real terror has no facial expression, and it never stops. Real terror is shark’s eyes and self-loathing with a special kind of moral forgetfulness that comes from a lifetime of isolation and neglect. Real terror is not glamorous at all. This fake evil stare is the look that the goth kids at your middle school dance all had on their faces because they were too cool and charmingly fucked up to dance like everyone else.
The point of this is, I can tell from just the trailer that even if I did possess the attention span required to sit through a whole movie, I would probably end up walking out of Suicide Squad a half hour into it anyway. If I were ever cast as the Joker in god forbid another one of these stupid fucking movies, I would play real evil, that is to say I would make you know that I hated myself more than my victims, that I got no joy from killing, and that I was too bitter and depressed to even dye my hair green. There would be lots of crying mixed with laughing (this is the only thing Hollywood has EVER gotten right about the mentally ill) and at the end of the movie I would die and nobody would care.
Harley Quinn looks pretty cool, though. I mean if you’re into blinding-hot women with baseball bats.
HELLO! AND WEL and, sorry, and welcome to THE LATEST BLOG POST ON THIS WEBSITE I DO TOO INFREQUENTLY FOR ANYONE TO KNOW OR CARE ABAOUT! Regarding that, I am working on some new Whales, by which I mean I have written a whole large thing full of them but I’ve been too busy to draw them yet. TOO B too, sorry. Too busy MAKING AN ANIMATED UNITED SHAPES MUSIC VIDEO for Cats Broke In! And an illustrated book of tweets which will be really better than Steve Martin’s book of stupid tweets, which I am almost completely copying. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT PICASSO SAID ABOUT STEALING SHIT FROM OTHER PEOPLE! “Do it all of the time,” Picasso says to me. But he was like 42% ass, which. Yes.
But yes, there are some new Whales coming to you I should say. Surprise-ruiner alert: All of Platypus’ strips this season will feature CELEBRITY CAMEOS! Or: Celebrios!™ The terrible children’s cereal! One sex tape in every box! (I apologize already for the terrible caricatures. I am aware that the Kristen Stewart I have drawn looks more like Parker Posey in the first panel and Naomi Watts in the second.)
More: This, yes, this video will be enchanting. The deadline is October the 20. THIS IS THE LATE DEADLINE, FOOLS. Because traditional animation, this is what I’m finding out, it takes for stupid ever. But it will be at SXSW Film Festival (Music Video Category) if I pay the fine and it is accepted, and if I finish on time, which as I said is late. If I manage to finish by the actual deadline, you people should really give me all of your money. MORE DET more details as they happen. HAPPEN!
Hey @AlJean. I will animate your couch gag for free. For the purposes of this discussion, I am super famous.
— Joseph Devens (@DoctorDevens) October 26, 2015
— Al Jean (@AlJean) October 27, 2015
— Joseph Devens (@DoctorDevens) October 27, 2015
— Al Jean (@AlJean) October 27, 2015
— Joseph Devens (@DoctorDevens) October 27, 2015
Well I just now finally watched Garden State for the first time…OK most of it. It was so BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING that I skipped the last half hour. If the moral of the story was that your life will be better if you stop taking your medicine, then I would have to classify this movie as complete garbage. When you stop taking your medicine, here’s what happens:
1. The thing that the medicine was protecting you from resumes violently ruining your life in fresh, awful ways.
2. You experience withdrawal symptoms that terrify you so badly that you…
3. Probably kill yourself.
That guy was on what my doctor likes to call some SERIOUSLY NO-FUCKING-AROUND-WITH drugs. If you stop taking Ziprasidone, you don’t suddenly regain some romanticized version of your life before you got sick. You get ice cold, shaky, and you sweat like a dog. Everything around you buzzes with electricity. Your body WILL NOT sleep no matter what you try. You experience a level of stress and anxiety that would destroy even astronaut-level mental stability, and then you fall to the ground in all the kinds of pain that there are: physical, emotional, and psychological. And then you do whatever you have to do to get more Ziprasidone…and that’s just ONE of the drugs Zach Braff was on. Quitting anti-depressants is even worse.
When you stop taking your medicine, you do not have a magical introspective awakening, you do not fall in love with the perfect Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and you do not walk away without injury. You go crazy and you fucking die.
The soundtrack was…OK.