Eurus

Next up on the chopping block: Euros by The Oh Hellos. Cross your legs, align your chakras, and let’s get a little bit spiritual.

But first, an ad from our sponsors:

Are you tired of today’s pop songs, always drawing from the same grab-bag of well-worn tropes and tired-out lyrics? Ready to trade lyrics like these:

“I’m that motherfucker bustin’ heads,
Finna push it to the ledge,
Yeah, I’ve been smokin’ my meds
Ain’t got no love for the feds.”

– “44 More” by Logic

Or

“I met up with an acrobat
In Brooklyn or some place like that
With life and taxis flying past
We tore that dance hall down”

“Fire Escape” by Andrew McMahon In the Cat Café or whatever his band’s called. I don’t even know why this dude makes me so mad… Hold on, I’m gonna take a second to Google him. This has been going on for far too long with no real, concrete basis…

See, my problem with McMahon began when I heard “Cecilia and the Satellite” on the radio, and it just really rubbed me the wrong way. It’s, like, if Buzzfeed created an indie lyrics generator; that’d be his music. Or, his popular songs anyway. Admittedly, I haven’t listened to any of his albums in their entirety, but isn’t that so often the case with the things we dislike? We never really understand them… anyway, then he calls his band Andrew McMahon In the Wilderness, and I’m like,Ok, frèrot, but what do you really know about the wilderness?” Where is this dude from… Portland, maybe?

Oh, holy shit, he has leukemia. Oops, is he OK?


He…
Is…

…still touring, cool. So, I guess he had cancer. Well, let’s wind this little rant down before the water gets too hot. If you’re feeling ticked off about me ragging on a dude that had and maybe still has cancer and wanna donate to LLS, the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, you can do so – here – and prove to yourself that you’re a better person than me. And maybe you’re thinking, I don’t need to prove anything to you or myself, I didn’t roast a guy with cancer, well that sounds to me like you’re just trying to get out of donating.

Where were we? Right, so if you wanna trade out lyrics like that, for lyrics like this:

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Property of AF’s Media Division

Then you should check out this band. I mean, these siblings really lay it on thick in this album. Let me put it this way: if these lyrics were the sesame butter, and this album was the sesame butter and jam sandwich, one bite of this sandwich would have you chewing for days, nay, weeks. You would drink a whole orchard of almond milk just to lubricate your mouth hinges enough to swallow a bite of this v i s c o u s lyrical sorcery.

So dive into this album with a glass of almond milk and your bible handy, because the Heath’s are notorious for their biblical allusions as well. They’re a well read family: the Heath kids (they’re older than me, I don’t know what I’m going on about, calling them kids) have listed C.S. Lewis, classical mythology and fantasy literature as an influence in the past. Dear Wormwood, one of their former albums, takes its name from the demon nephew in The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis, a read which I would strongly recommend. Disclaimer: I’m only a quarter of the way through, though; so far, it’s not only been a cutting critique of the Church at the time, but also a philosophically ponderous epistolary novel. What I would recommend is reading Kandinsky’s On the Problem of Form, then diving straight into The Screwtape Letters. There’s probably a better pairing out there, but I like pretending that the Devil’s the leader of “The Black Hand” from Kandinky’s essay, and God is the Abstract Spirit. Also, if you (like me) are not a religious person, this might help you get more out of the reading. Just some ~ food for thought. ~

Let’s just quickly follow the breadcrumbs back to the original thread…

So, I started listening to this band about a month or two ago when tracks from Notos started popping up in my recommended new music playlist on iTunes. I’m not reviewing that album currently, but I would definitely recommend giving it a listen. Not to mention, Eurus frequently makes reference to and builds upon this work, so it’ll def elevate your listening experience.

Enough foreplay, let’s bust it wide open, one track at a time:

“O Sleeper,” (not the first time they’ve mentioned the “O Sleeper.” See “Caesar,” from Dear Wormwood) hitt’n you hard, right off the bat with some biblical imagery: floods, dunes and dales, and sacred rams? Actually, that last one is from Egyptian mythology, I believe. Sorry, breaking apart these lyrics for me is like trying to disassemble a piece of Ikea furniture if every screw required a different sized screwdriver. It’s like, in every line, I’ve got to go back to Google and type in shit like, “Sacred ram? Holy rocks? Pillars of an ancient empire?” and filter through death metal bands and satanist cults until I find the right screwdriver.

“Dry Branches,” tittering strings, the clacking of wood, a sort of stream-side chatter that crescendos and comes into focus over the course of a minute in this instrumental transitional piece.

“Grow,” which was released as a single before the album, plops us down in the living room, now a couple millennium removed from Ancient Greece. I feel like the first stanza paints a good picture of the creative process, or just what it’s like reading about ancient mythologies; maybe you’re reading the Odyssey late at night and your bed side lamp casts shadows that “look like a twisted apparition from the past.”  It really sets the mood for a nice, long read.

Something I really like about this song is the way Maggie Heath leads the band into a verse. She leads the charge with the “You” in “You shout it down,” like a queen at the head of her army. I’m not a singer, and I’ve never tried to compose a song like this, but I feel like there’s a sort of lyrical complexity… a sort of, well, actually, je ne sais pas du tout. You know what? I’m going to ask someone.

Fast forward one day and ~ Bam! ~ That’s how time works and I’ve got an answer. How cool is that? We just traveled across time together! I feel like we’ve grown closer… you know? Temporally speaking, anyways. Here’s what pre-school piano teacher, choral sorceress, and my mother Cathy had to say about the song:

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Ok, mom, well, looks like I might have been wrong about my previous claim. Oh for one, as they say some places at some times. But you know what? That’s just one opinion, let’s hear what the wonderfully talented jazz pianist, DJ and musical mage Hunter Brake had to say about it:

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You read that? “Fantastic panning” and “wide yet realistic acoustic space.” Not at all what I was getting at, but I’m giving myself half a point for being a good sport. A lesser man would’ve edited out his mistake. Not me, though. Never me. I like to think these reviews are as much about us growing as individuals as actually reviewing anything.

There’s also a theme that runs through this song like a ~ river, ~ this idea of letting nature be, absorbing its wisdom without imposing any of your icky, sticky human-ness upon it. Furthermore, this image of the river running its course reminds me of the adventure of Siddhartha and his final apprenticeship with the ferryman, Vasudeva. Siddhartha was able to finally reach enlightenment by watching the flow of the river, by just being and learning everything he needed to know in the passing waters.

Please direct your attention to the line, “let the wild takeover;” there are numerous references to satyrs and the wild in general in this album and the general consensus over on genius.com is that the wild and nature represents God’s perfect work, or, if you like, a white light or spiritual energy that we should interact with only by observation and acceptance. Moving on with the tour, we’ve definitely spent too much time on “Grow.”

“Eurus,” a great song, lead by Tyler Heath this time, warns against the treacheries of materialism and greed, similar to the messages in The Screwtape Letters. Some helpful soul on genius.com added that Eurus, the greek god of the Eastern Wind, was considered unlucky, thereby demystifying the line, “as Fortuna sits idly by,” which ushers us into a brilliant scene depicting the narrator, driven to depravity in his quest of earthly fortunes, sitting under the goddess’ table and subsisting on her crumbs alone.

“A Convocation of Fauns (A Faunvocation, If you will),” another instrumental, and this time it’s a banjo that carries the melody. Hot dog, this album really tickles my fancy.

“Hieroglyphs,” We’re in the home stretch now, and the band is kicking it into high gear. Picking up the beat after the last crescendo of “A Convocation of Fauns […],” the whole chorus chants us into a hot and sweaty fervor of biblical proportions. We’re stamping our feet after an enemy that’s been killed off long ago, or so the story goes, and I think the band would like us to ask ourselves, “Did we ever consider these beats might not be coming from the drums of war?” Now read:

“Cause maybe you’ve been to busy thinking ahead,
Of where we’re all going after we’re dead
To maybe consider our bodies are worth
More than the dust that we can return.”

Which, I think is a refreshing perspective, and one that I, personally, was sorely in need of. Again, like all of their songs, there’s something in there for everyone, even if you’re not a religious type. Sometimes we just get caught up in thinking about our legacy in a very selfish way, and we neglect all the good and happiness we could bring about in the present. Think about it.

Side note, this is the song I snatched the quote from in the review’s illustration. Check it out again to refresh your noggin meat.

And what about that old wheel that keeps on turning? What is that all about?

Well, it seems to me, that the old wheel is the cycle of life and death; it’s a boulder that each of us, a mortal Sisyphus, begins rolling up our own hill the day we’re born until at last we die and the boulder rolls back downhill, the next generation picking it up again. We keep turning that wheel until eventually the sun burns out and we, the rock, and even the hill itself are all burned to ash and dust. So, maybe, while you’re pushing that boulder, take a look around, pick a flower along the way, and do a couple reality checks from time to time.

And here’s something else that’s interesting about Sisyphus: when you’re learning to do anything, artistic or otherwise, learning that craft feels a lot like pushing a boulder up some well-worn path. You pass by all the spots that artists before you passed and maybe, if you do it quick enough and long enough, you get a chance to see a part of that hill that all the other Sisyphi never saw. Just a thought.

“Passerine,” at last we’ve arrived. An ode to what is to come, a moment of reflection upon the current project. By the way, a Passerine is a bird; I didn’t know that and I don’t expect anyone else to know that, so, maybe I saved at least one person a trip to dictionary.com, the unofficial sponsor of my work. Returning to the album, “Passerine,” the song, makes reference to their coming albums in this supposed tetralogy, heralding the coming of Borealis, the Northern Wind.

Also, I like this idea of “purifying the holy rock to melt the gilded seams;” it’s a beautiful way of saying that they’re recasting their religion and forging their own interpretation, one that feels much more pure and spiritual than one that focuses on the very concrete, cosmetic Christianity we see gumming up the pews these days. I’ll definitely have to come back to these albums after I get around to reading the original ~ Good Book ~

So, how are we feeling about this album? I really like the juxtaposition of Greco-Roman mythology and Christian lore. I know I personally have a lot of beef with the believers, and I think that’s a shame, because like Siddhartha, The Bhagavad Gita, and a lot of good scientific literature, there’s a lot we can all learn from their work, and I’m a little annoyed that my past experience with people beating me over the head with it has turned me off reading the damned thing for so long.

So I give the album my first 10/10, because I can appreciate a couple of well-read people making good music and creating some art. Admittedly, it takes a lot for me to listen to anything falling even close to the brand of Christian rock, and this band got me there, so kudos to them. Anyway, I hope you liked the review, feel free to check out our other eight reviews on the site, and we’ll see you again next time!


Hey, you. Yeah, reader guy, or gal, or whatsit, or whoseit.

Let’s have a talk. Grab a seat; get comfortable; make yourself a cup of tea if you’d like. It’s been a long review, I know. Your eyes are tired, you probably wanna rest. Please, just stay up a little longer with me; what’s it gonna hurt?

A lot of readers munch on yummy content like what I’ve got splattered all up and over these pages and I know they don’t really expect a lot in return, but hey, here I am, and I wanna know: how you doing? I wanna know: where do you read these things? Maybe on your phone while you’re on the bus or in the metro? Why are you even reading this smut, anyways, huh?

I know reviews aren’t supposed to have emot—er, seasons, but episode ten of AF’s reviews is just around the corner and it feels kind of like we’re reaching the end of Season One of AF Reviews. I think that’s pretty cool… I mean, we’ve got a good thing going on, right? I write these reviews; you read them; what else really is there to it? Look at what we’ve accomplished too: we’ve got a voice now, a sort of style; it’s like, now you open these babies up, and you kind of know what to expect.

I guess what I’m trying to get around to asking is: what do you, the people, want to see reviewed next? I’ve got a lot of ideas for this milestone: a look at selected pieces of Vonnegut’s work, a review of the animated series Gravity Falls, maybe even a look back at my experiences with Francegiving… What do you want to see? Where should we steer this ship? Because I’m telling you, with the shadow of our tenth review looming before us, I’ll point the bow in whatever direction you want. We’ll take this boat right into the eye of the storm if that’s what’ll get your goose got; I’ll get as nitty and gritty as your grimy hearts desire. We’ll get weird. We’ll get real weird.

Leave your suggestions in the comments. À toute.

Expectations

Composed by Wild Child, reviewed by me. 

Bonjour y’all, and welcome to another cerebrally titillating review brought to you from the somnolent Saintes, a town perpetually blanketed in clouds and cool breezes. Today we’ll actually be doing a double-feature, reviewing two works related, not only in genre, but in geographical origin as well. Join me as we travel to the Lone-star State, where everything is folksier, and, (surprise, surprise!) more ~ introspective. ~

Also, today the American Fables’ team of one is breaking from their haphazard reviewing methodology in favor of reviewing something that’s actually ~ relevant. ~ Some of you might be asking yourselves, could this represent a turning of the page in the history of American Fables’ Reviews? Could this be the start of AF’s rise to reputability as a general reviews kingpin? That, faithful readers (all, what? one or two of you?), is up to you to decide.

So, without further ado, if everyone would take this opportunity to put their listening ears on and get ready for AF’s review of Wild Child’s latest release, Expectations.

It’s pretty good, definitely better than that moment you realized love at first sight only maybe exists, and if it does, it’s is a lot more like winning the lottery than waiting for that special someone to just come knockin’ on your door. And I don’t just mean that it’s, like, holographic Charizard rare, but also that putting all your eggs in the ~ Love at First Sight ~ basket will probably lead to a kind of emotional destitution that’s akin to the cycle of debt many compulsive gamblers face. It’s pretty much the difference between finding a career you enjoy and working hard at it, saving up and building a life you’re proud of versus buying lotto tickets and trying to cash in on your innate ~ specialness. ~

Anyway, it’s also worse than Tyrell’s Veggie Crisps. I opened up a family sized bag the other day on my way back from the grocery store and the next thing I remember is waking up on the couch, groceries lying on the floor, drenched in sweat and one hand still in the empty bag. What I’m saying is, maybe it’s a OK if everything’s not as good as Tyrell’s Veggie Crisps.

Let’s take it from the beginning.

Did you enjoy the small child voice from “Crazy Bird”? Well, have yourself another heaping serving of baby voice in “Alex,” the opening track that sets the tone for the rest of the album. Though the rhythm is more upbeat to an extent that I wouldn’t describe “Alex” as melancholy, the lyrics become maudlin enough that at times I felt like, “Okay, Alex, I know you’re upset about the relationship, but, come on, you’re kind of being a…. Jerry.”   

Slipping and sliding on down the list, “Back and Forth” hands us a couple who’s distorted the notion of love and relationships to the point that it’s more apt to describe what they’ve got going on as a sort of spiteful game, a metaphor that returns in “Expectations.”  Throughout the whole album, there’s this recurring warning in the lyrics, advertising the perils of holding on too tightly to a ~ Sinking Ship. ~

Tired of reading this balderdash? Need to rest your tired, pink word-sponge? I had myself a little search on the ol’ Youtube and found one music video that they’ve already released for their title track. Check it out here. You can listen to the band playing in a dusty old room while Wilson lights candles then casually dips out to explore the joint.

Hold up, let’s see what we’re actually looking at here… Wilson wanders off from her band in some kind of… lightly haunted mansion? Sorry, I’m watching it now and I’ve only gotten about halfway through. Wilson’s upstairs; Beggins is holding down the fort downstairs with the band, probably wondering where their lead singer got off to. Should they keep playing? She’ll probably be back, right? Oh, wait, there she is. She’s been there the whole time I guess, I don’t know, I guess the daylight part is happening at a different time from the night time… I mean, it sounds obvious when I type it out, but it just wasn’t registering with me that these juxtaposed cuts were going on at different times. Ok, I’m at the climax now, and things are really starting to happen. So, is she like a witch? Is someone demolishing the house? Some sort of I, Robot, Will Smith still trapped in the ol’ mansion kind of deal? Looks like things settle on down after she finishes singing the line, “you can’t possibly give what I want from you.”

Looking at the lyrics now, really puttin’ on my reading glasses and wiggling my nose up and down the screen. I don’t see anything about ghosts, but I do see two ideas emerging from the page like phantoms of a sort. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a Class B12 relationship hazard: unrealistic expectations paired with a sense of ownership over your partner. You know, now that I’ve put on my critical analysis overalls and really waded around in these lyrics a bit with my music boots, I’m seeing how the band could’ve equated the idea of perfection that we project onto our partner with ghosts. I mean, when someone dies, it can be super hard to cope. You want something so bad that doesn’t exist, that can’t exist, that you start to project these expectations onto inanimate objects, onto happenings that aren’t supernatural in the slightest. But, you know what? I could be ~ wrong ~ and I encourage everyone to leave your own interpretations in the comments.

Also, there’s a live duet of “The One” on Youtube (here), where Wilson goes full Margot Robbie on a mountain top. One thought I can’t shake, though, is where’d she get the water from? Are they in a camping site? Is there a house nearby? Did they bring the water up in jugs from down mountain?

I really like “The One;” it’s sort of reminiscent of the break in “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, that part where the Ebert and Castrinos recollect that fateful fall that got them ~ falling  ~ in love. I mean, the message in these two songs is completely different, but something about the boy-girl dynamic and conversational form gets me thinkin’.

You know what this video reminds me of? There’s a scene from the movie Victoria & Abdul, where Queen Victoria goes on a “picnic” in Scotland, having her servants carry two or maybe even more tables, plus chairs, along for this lunch in the Scottish Highlands that lasts all of thirty minutes before the rain forces them back down the hill again. I bet Wilson had her servants haul that goofy ass bathtub up the mountain, shot the music video, then hopped back in the Jeep like it was the Mystery Van and said toodles, something to the tune of, “Right, so I’ll see all you tub people down at the bottom?”

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Property of AF Media Division

Just realized Wilson’s wearing a little kerchief in the tub. This little bit of L’Art pour l’art has got me thinking about Réné Magritte, not because he was a proponent of aestheticism (Was he? I don’t know.), but because of La Trahison des images (The pipe one. It’s the painting of the pipe.); a reminder that this is art and not real life, you’re not watching Kelsey Wilson taking a bath on the mountainside, you’re watching a performance, a video of Kelsey Wilson who is in a bathtub, but who is not bathing. Basically, this is a representation of the thing, not the thing, and that’s maybe what Wilson and Beggins wanted to communicate in this video. This song, “The One,” is not the relationship itself, they are not the ones in the relationship, and there was a relationship, maybe even still is, but it’s not exactly this thing that we’re singing about.

 

I swear, Beggins reminds me of someone… Somebody in the comments for “Crazy Bird” said he looks like Edgar Allen Poe, but I think he might be more Sam Brown from WKUK than Poe. Actually… I don’t know that that’s it either. Is it Jack White? Meg White? It’s the eyes and nose, but only when you see his profile. Haunting.

What did we even talk about this review? I’m pretty sure we totally neglected “Sinking Ships,” arguably the most popular track on the whole album.

Still, before I sign off and assign this work of art a somewhat arbitrary number of frozen water droplets, I want to talk about the last track on the album, my favorite track, “Goodbye Goodnight.” The coup de foudre struck when that chorus first came in and swelled, filling my ears like the rising tide making a run on the coast. But then, after the tide scurried back, I took a look at the tide pool verses, and I have to say, there’re some interesting critters floating around this song.

In the first few verses, we tie this album together, rounding out that allusion to childhood made in “Alex,” sustained through the entire album, and then we’ll plunged once more into the utter tragedy that is ~ the r e a l world. ~ And then that chorus, “don’t want to say goodbye, I’ll say goodnight,” it’s got me saying * this *

So, how are these cookies going to crumble? Are there any songs on Expectations that could compete with past hits like “Crazy Bird,” “Living Tree,” or “Pillow Talk”? I don’t think so, but as a whole, the album functions really well, existing as more than the sum of its parts. There’s enough recurring themes, solid flow, and general groove to keep this sinking ship afloat I’d say; I give Expectations seven snowflakes overall.

Stay tuned for review number two, coming at you in 3… 2… whenever you click on the link…

Purée de Sésame

Sésame Butter, Demi-Complète, puréed by La Vie Claire; reviewed by me.

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Photograph of the sesame butter manufacturing process, taken by the AF Media Division.

Bonjour y’all, and welcome to another riveting review brought to you from Saintes, France. Today we’ll be tucking in to the world of gastronomy and French cuisine with a sinfully unsweet jar of La Vie Claire’s Purée de sésame demi-complète.

In a world where the white, middle-class man can live at large without fear of major, non-fiscal consequences for his actions, comes one big jar of repercussion.
It’s the original  “slap-on-the-wrist” for your tongue;
it’s a Trojan horse filled with awful;
it’s La Vie Claire’s sesame butter, and it’s come to sucker punch you in your mouth.

Let’s really get into it, though. First off, I gotta say, it’s pretty bad. Eating this is definitely better than eating bark, but only because you don’t have to chew it first. That said, eating this butter is probably worse than taking a bath in it: it tastes like something that would be way better to rub on your skin, like soap or a good aftershave.

I originally bought this after deciding to go vegan and having no idea what to eat. I was lost, confused, and I didn’t know where to go or what to do… I’d traveled too far down the millennial rabbit hole without a lantern. I needed a light, a guide, and then there it was, in the back of the organic food co-op–my Virgil. Little did I know, Dante’s three part voyage to a more eco-friendly Paradise wasn’t all Musky space cars and community gardens, but it also involved the occasional unsuspecting bite of liquid mediocrity.

I do wonder, though, what did they actually have in mind for this product when they made it? Maybe it wasn’t made to be eaten, and this has all been one big misunderstanding. It’s all too possible that somebody simply moved this purée from the Health & Beauty section and misplaced it in the comestible section. Hmm, if we just have ourselves a look on the back of the jar… “Cette purée est préparée à partir de graines de sésame complet…” blah, blah, blah here’s a summary:

This is a purée composed of shelled and… well, I’d say de-shelled, but that’s not a word. The thing is, there’s already a word for de-shelled: it’s shelled. If you shell something, it no longer has a shell. Which means it’s shelled. But if something has a shell on it, then you can also call it shelled. I… I don’t know what to say anymore. The only word I want to use is shelled, a word now devoid of meaning, torn apart by the duality of its definition.

Anyway, it’s a purée made of half no shells and half shelly sesame seeds, mashed to bits, and thrown in a jar. Apparently, it’s the shelly seeds that give it its ~ strong ~ flavor, and I guess that means they really did intend for us to smear this in our mouth holes. Huh.

It’s not all bad news, though! If you swallow, or just hold it in your mouth for a long time, you’ll absorb a wide range of nutrients such as fiber, magnesium, and phosphorus (which I didn’t know I needed, but if it lights a match, I want it in my body!). Speaking of fire, this mash has never even heard of it: the only thing this purée has been subjected to is ritualistic grinding on the ol’ millstone. No heat, no pasteurization, no preservatives, no sterilization… I presume none of these precautions were taken because even fungi were like, “Oh, better not. I’ll stick with your unsealed bread loaves and warm milk.”

You know, it’s also possible this is all about food combinations or whatever. According to the back of the jar, you can use it in your vegetable pâtés or you can dilute it in water and… add it to your drinks? Seems a little out of left field, but alright, you can add it to your drinks. Actually, I’ve got some oat milk in the fridge—maybe their equal wave functions of awfulness will cancel out and I’ll be left with just, like, normal milk. One final suggestion is to simply spread it on toast, which is, in fact, the first thing I ever tried to do with it. What this does is effectively slow the chewing and consumption process down to increase time spent on your tongue, prolonging the contact between your wriggly taste worm and this wood paste. I would just not.

All in all, I give it nine snowflakes, because eating this product was a genuinely new and invigorating experience for me. Like being pinched in a dream or dunked with water mid-slumber, my eyes have been opened! For too long I’d lived coddled under the flanneled wing of Trader Joe and Whole Foods. Then, La Vie Claire came in to my life like a leather-clad Dom or The Contortionist and showed me what it truly meant to be metal.

I’m not saying this stuff is good; it isn’t. It’s definitely one of the worst things I’ve ever tasted and that’s including many inedible things I accidentally (or purposefully) put in my mouth as a kid. But I’m giving it nine snowflakes because it’s a new perspective for me and it’s just, I don’t know, authentic. It’s genuine—it’s got nothing but the raw ingredients.  We, the consumer, asked for food that was untampered with, with no added sugars, no preservatives, no nothing, and only one champion of truth stepped out from the shadows and dared give us what we asked for. La Vie Claire was the only one who was able to not only call us out on our bullshit, but serve it right back to us with a giant ORGANIC sticker on it.

So, there you have it. Hope you enjoyed the review; feel free to drop a Comment, slap on a Like, or maybe even spread it around with a Share. Whatever’s in your practice today. Until next time, keep it viscous, y’all.

Dirk Gently (Season 1)

Alright, we’re back after the holidays and an extended vacation from reviewing. It seems that the Sun has also been on holiday seeing as we haven’t seen daylight in Saintes since before the New Year… on the bright side, this weather’s been great if your New Year’s resolutions were to, say, avoid melanoma or perhaps be more generally wet. This year is shaping up to be a good one for all the French vampires and pretty trash for everyone else.

~ This image ~ I nabbed off of Itunes. Thanks, ghost of Steve Jobs.

 

Moving on. All this ~ not-being-outside~ has given me some time to catch up on my Netflix queue, and after pounding back episode after episode in rapid succession, I’m ready to review season one of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, created by Max Landis. This series is an adaption of Douglas Adams’ (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) novel by the same name, and has been described by one French critic as a “Dadaist nightmare,” so get yourself in the mood for a post-WWII quest for meaning in a meaningless world type-thing.

It’s a pretty good watch, though, definitely better than being turned into a dog by a gaggle of counter culture cultists looking to blackmail your… spoilers. I guess that’s getting into the realm of spoilers. That said, it’s definitely worse than actually being involved in the Universe’s plan to fix itself. That’s, like, an instant solution to existential dread—step aside, Sartre & Kierkegaard! I’m on a mission from the Universe and everything is connected and there is such a thing as Fate and Destiny, but they’re not mutually exclusive and they only kind of interfere with my free will to an unspecified, definitely non-paradoxical degree. You know how much time that would save me? I’d never worry again about the infinite number of ever multiplying, constantly diverging paths that lead out in all directions, the many headed hydra of possibilities that creeps closer, grows larger with every decision you make. It wouldn’t matter! I’d just be on one big ol’ universal superhighway with no exits, riding it until I eventually fall asleep at the wheel and crash the car.

What a dream that would be.

So, let’s talk about the characters and plot real quick. We’ve got ourselves a sort of Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes-esque character named Dirk Gently. He’s got the superhuman ability to be exactly where he’s supposed to be in the Universe at any given time, and if you’re thinking, “Well, Zack, that’s not a superpower,” isn’t it though? Isn’t it? You can keep your invisibility and flight, because I know, at the end of the day, I’ll have either been hit by a car or shot down by an anti-aircraft gun. At least with Dirk’s superpower, I’ll die knowing that’s exactly how I was supposed to die.

Dirk is accompanied by Todd Brotzman, played Elijah Wood, who will reprise his role from Over the Garden Wall as extremely reluctant protagonist. Watch Todd’s transformation from begrudging sidekick to holistic parrot as he spends the latter half of the season regurgitating the same silly bullshit Dirk shoved down his throat in the exposition. They’ll also be joined by Todd’s sister, Amanda (played by Hannah Marks), and her struggle against a debilitating case of Pararibulitis, a made-up disease that seems like a cross between epilepsy and schizophrenia.  The whole thing with Pararibulitis becomes a little problematic by the end of the season though, but since another, more qualified blogger has already written about it (plus there are a few spoilers), I’ll pass you on over to them. (Click here)

The show’s main villain, played by Aaron Douglas, is fairly compelling and reminiscent of John Goodman’s performance in 10 Cloverfield Lane, just a lot less sinister. He definitely had a good creepy streak going for him in the beginning, but the more you learn about his character’s origin and motives, the more goofy and, at times, pathetic he seems, so by the end of the season, you don’t feel particularly threatened by him and his goons.

So where do we stand on this season? It’s definitely a good time all the way through, but I don’t know that you actually gain anything from watching it. What separates Dirk Gently from other characters in his archetype is that Dirk more often than not has no control over the situation and often becomes very overwhelmed by the absurdity he surrounds himself with. A good example of this is when Todd and Dirk infiltrate the home of Gordon Rimmer (the main antagonist), and Dirk very quickly finds himself well out of his depth. He becomes immediately paralyzed and useless by fear, which seems all the more peculiar as the show progresses and you learn the genesis of what seemed like Dirk’s precognitive and perceptive abilities. I think this makes him seem more relatable, and definitely sets him apart in the genre, but I don’t know that his character is wholly consistent.

Also, this show certainly has its share of gratuitous violence, which to be honest, I didn’t notice until a few episodes in (somewhere around the time the “holistic” assassin enters the fray). I’m not sure if this is more of a commentary on the series or my own viewing habits… or maybe society? Still, something to consider before watching.

All in all, I give this season six snowflakes. I wouldn’t say that it’s a must-see, but if you wanna get into that headspace where you’re mulling over the underlying interconnectedness of the world, this is definitely a good way to do it. Plus, it’s easier to come by than DMT and less of a commitment than LSD, though still not as potent.

I’m gonna go ahead and wrap this review up for now, and hopefully I’ll see y’all next week.