Jaques. Image from mycosmicdna.com.

By Chris Kromphardt
Staff Writer, Justice Administrator

The Media Center at John F. Kennedy Elementary and Junior High School in Spring Valley, IL is a fairly small room, filled with books and other materials available for use by the hundreds of students who go to school there. Its modest size, however, does not betray the considerable influence its contents have had on the countless adolescents who over the years have scoured its shelves for something, anything that looked interesting.

My reading tastes as a junior high student around the turn of the millennium were largely dictated by what those shelves had to offer. This was before The Craze That Was Harry Potter had swept too far through the youth lit landscape. Without a strong guiding beacon, I found myself wandering amongst those stacks looking for something, anything that might appeal to an introverted 12-year-old boy.

The influence of many of my discoveries during this phase of my life still resonate; while I’ve moved on from reading the likes of John Grisham and Richard Adams, Michael Crichton and Terry Brooks, I can fondly remember poring through those books, titillated by some of the foul language and violent scenarios, held rapt by the sheer breadth of the stories they contained as compared to anything I could find on TV (remember: this was before the ascendance of the internet), all while my reading tastes were being decisively honed every day by people I would never meet, and yet, after spending so many hours reading their work, I still felt like I knew them.

And yet none of those authors had anywhere near the impact as Brian Jacques.

Mr. Jacques, who died Monday at the age of 71, was best known for writing the Redwall series of books, and from the moment I pulled that first thick book with a mouse on its cover off the shelf I was forever changed.

For the uninitiated, Redwall is the name of an abbey found deep in the Mossflower Woods. It was the home of all sorts of “good” creatures—mice, moles, squirrels, otters, the occasional hare, and, of course, at least one badger. These anthropomorphized creatures were the protagonists of Mr. Jacques medieval-tinged stories; each species was like its own separate race, from the everyman-archetypal mice to the perilous hares of the Long Patrol brigade who lived at the mountain Salamandastron to the oh-my-God-awesomeness that were the badgers. Of course, what good are protagonists without those who threaten their peaceful way of life, and Mr. Jacques showed devilish imagination at conjuring up baddies who tried to conquer Redwall and its inhabitants: Cluny the Scourge, a rat; Slagar the Cruel, a fox with a harlequin mask; and my favorite, Ferahgo the Assassin, a weasel with impossibly blue eyes who was as merciless as he was brilliant.

These characters brought so vividly to life by Mr. Jacques’ prose—the original Redwall was written by Mr. Jacques for blind children; his descriptions of both feasts and battlefields were therefore a special, sensory-ridden treat—didn’t just inhabit Redwall Abbey and Salamandastron; they lived in my imagination. And they still do. It’s been years since I picked up one of the books, but the first fourteen or so are still sitting on my bookshelves in my old bedroom back at home.

When I learned Monday morning that Brian Jacques, a man I’d never met who was nonetheless the conjuror of more of my juvenile flights of fancy than I’d probably care to admit to, had died, I felt like I’d lost a friend. But I take solace in knowing that I’ll always have the well-read and well-loved books that are sitting in the bedroom in which I grew up—and the memories.

Front page image from penguingroup.com.

ARTIST: The White House Band
ALBUM TITLE: The Method EP
RECORD LABEL: Cap City Records
RELEASED: November 9, 2010

By Chris Kromphardt
Staff Writer, Justice Administrator

For a band that self-promote as a mix of ‘70s guitars, Kid Cudi and the Roots—their sound’s a blend they dub “New Vogue,” which features rap, rock, and blues, and is surprisingly apt—the White House Band make a statement with this collection of four tracks.

The first thing you’re going to notice listening to this EP are the instruments—they’re distinct and they’re loud and they tend to overwhelm front man David E Beats. On my second listen, I paid particular attention to Beats’ lyrics, and they still didn’t grab me. He does however up his game on “Sky High,” a song that’s not on this EP that reveals a better-balanced mesh of the band’s considerable collective talent.

Photo from mi2n.com.

The White House Band would remind me of early Linkin Park—back when they were known as Hybrid Theory—if that band hadn’t been so committed to the tight songs that populated their debut EP and first few albums. Both bands freely mix rap and rock to produce distinctive sounds that aggressively grab your attention. Where TWHB really start to shine is when they tend to let a song just ride: their ‘70s influence is especially apparent on songs like “Maybe Tomorrow,” with the extended guitar riff.

The bottom line on The White House Band is that The Method EP is an uneven but promising first effort. It’s definitely worth a listen on their web site at www.thewhitehouseband.net—not the least reason being that “Sky High,” also available on the site, builds on and is a better showcase of their intriguing sound. For an act that’s not even a year old, I think we can expect to hear a lot more from this independent Brooklyn band.

The Method EP: 5/10
“Sky High”: 8/10

Front page image from truestoriesradio.com.

ARTIST: The Decemberists
ALBUM TITLE: The King is Dead
RECORD LABEL: Capitol Records
RELEASED: January 18, 2011

By Chris Kromphardt
Staff Writer, Justice Administrator

With The King is Dead, the Decemberists have gone from just being a band with a weird name—apparently a variant of an unfinished Tolstoy novel—that I was sort of familiar with to one whose back catalog of albums now has me wondering what kind of gems it might hold. A catchy, well-paced album, King presents a welcome opportunity for the alt-rock dabbler to get better acquainted with the somewhat intimidating (they did take their name from a Tolstoy novel, after all) guys and gal of the Decemberists.

I knew the Decemberists as a band with a reputation for distinctive songs; you always knew it was them. Colin Meloy’s clear singing voice and articulate songwriting are the key distinguishing characteristics of any Decemberists’ song. For me, those hallmarks always set them apart from the myriad similar bands you might hear on any alt-rock or “indie” radio station; the casual listen aside, though, I’d never checked out a complete album of theirs.

Photo from facebook.com/thedecemberists.

While I can’t say that The King is Dead will make the Decemberists one of my favorite bands, it definitely upped their position on my radar. It’s a very listenable and accessible album, and if, like me, you’ve ever wanted to get more into them, this is as good a place as any to start.

It’s also a great way to study for the GRE—how many other bands are going to drop “panoply” into a song, as the Decemberists do in “June Hymn”? But you know what, it works. Meloy’s never going to team up for a duet with someone like Kid Rock (he could, however, pretty effectively mix with Vampire Weekend’s Ezra Koenig); his nerd-rock stylings weave the eloquence of a classic novel with the simple yet strong instrumentation of folk music.

Some standout songs for me are “Down By The Water” and “This Is Why We Fight.” King is an album you can listen to straight through, but I found myself hitting the repeat button for these two. “Down By The Water” features an uptempo pace and well-crafted lyrics that have a way of etching themselves in your memory, while the quiet passion of “This Is Why We Fight,” the penultimate song on the album, serves as a fitting benediction to the album and a beautiful cry for freedom: “When we die/we will die/with our arms unbound/this is why we fight.”

A little folksy, and with the occasional shanty, The King is Dead is probably not going to reach a wide audience. But an album by the Decemberists likely isn’t going for that. So if you’re fan of thoughtful songmaking, give this album a shot. Otherwise you should probably steer clear, as you might get bored.

RATING: 7/10

Front page photo from decemberists.com.

TITLE: Black Swan
STARRING: Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassel, Barbara Hershey, Winona Ryder
DIRECTOR: Darren Aronofsky
STUDIO: Cross Creek Pictures, Phoenix Pictures (Distributed by Fox Searchlight Pictures)
RATED: R
RUN TIME: 110 min
RELEASED: December 3

By Chris Kromphardt
Staff Writer, Justice Administrator

Fun fact #1: Darren Aronofsky, the director of Black Swan, was for quite some time supposed to direct a grittier take on the Batman movie franchise, a job that ultimately went to Christopher Nolan.

Fun fact #2: I’m not much a fan of ballet. I can only name two ballets—Swan Lake and The Nutcracker. Ballet and opera are two mediums that for me fall under “Ehhh maybe I’ll get into them someday. Not today, though. Probably not tomorrow, either.”

Fun fact #3: Black Swan, Aronofsky’s film about a ballerina who’s losing her mind (and possibly also becoming a swan), is tense, atmospheric, and captivated me in ways that Batman (probably) never could.

A quick point of clarification: Black Swan and Batman have little to do with one another outside of Aronofsky’s involvement; but now that I’ve gotten your attention, here’s the general premise of the movie: Natalie Portman—a trained ballerina, it turns out, and in a role she was born to play; suck on that, Queen of Naboo—struggles to capture both the light and dark sides demanded by the leading role of the Swan Queen in what the ballet’s director calls a more “visceral” staging of Swan Lake. That vision sets the stage for a, yes, visceral blending of art and real life as Portman’s Nina Sayers wrestles with the rising darkness within her, as well as the ominous motives of the director, her vicariously-living mother, and rival ballerina, Lily, played by Mila Kunis. This last pairing, of Nina and Lily, is arresting: Kunis is a perfect foil for Portman, just enough like her to make the dark transformation taking place believable.

Image from rottentomatoes.com.

The real treat of Black Swan isn’t so much the plot; after all, we’re told early on how the story ends. What’s truly remarkable, and what has I’m sure seared a number of indelible images into my memory, is the raw intensity of the entire film. Portman’s clearly giving all she’s got, and director Aronofsky manages to capture that lightning in a bottle; along with the other filmmakers matching music and cinematography seamlessly to each scene, this collaboration produces a sensory and sensual work of art.

Now, as I said before, I typically don’t do ballet; however, I would be remiss if I didn’t give kudos to how visually stunning those scenes are. Intuitive camerawork and Oscar-worthy costume design just make everything look so cool.

There’s actually another parallel between Batman and Black Swan: both the story and filmmaking style reminded me of another Christian Bale film, The Machinist. In both films the lead actors slimmed down to a freakish degree to better embody the psychological withering away the protagonists are going through; a surreal, omnipresent dread permeates both films, leaving the viewer at the director’s whim, anxiously waiting what harrowing scenario will be served up next. Truthfully,The Machinist is the only film I can think of that holds a candle to Black Swan’s character-driven psycho-dread.

The bottom line on Black Swan is this: it’s an inspired, fresh idea by a talented director working with an actress who’s so thoroughly in the skin of her character that the audience can feel it. If you’re a fan of films that push the envelope, or are curious about what the fuss is going to be about come Oscar season, grab the closest open-minded friend you can find and go see this movie.

RATING: 9/10

ARTIST: My Chemical Romance
ALBUM TITLE: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys
RECORD LABEL: Reprise Records
RELEASED: November 22

By Chris Kromphardt
Staff Writer, Justice Administrator

It took him writing a comic book to do it, but I think I finally get MCR’s lead singer, Gerard Way.

That comic book, the fantastic Umbrella Academy from Dark Horse, is a riff on the classic dysfunctional superhero family tale, albeit sifted through an imagination on the Grant Morrison side of normal. How could DeadMau5-style serial killers, talking chimps, and the Kennedy assassination possibly have anything to do with one another? Read the “Dallas” story arc of Umbrella Academy to find out, and you’ll also begin to get an idea of the insane wavelengths traversed by Way’s brain.

Way’s, in the comic parlance, flair for the theatrical was pretty apparent on MCR’s three previous albums—especially the Queen-esque The Black Parade—and now with Danger Days we can see that the guy’s cultivated a distinctive aesthetic. It’s not always easy to project such an image without coming across as forced or hackneyed, but MCR, led by Way, make it look easy; this style is respectful of its forebears, but Way’s bombastic style transcends mere pastiche: anything bearing his fingerprints was produced by a proud fanboy whose idea of paying homage to the things he loves is to blast the hell out of them.

Photo from facebook.com/mychemicalromance.

Way’s on-the-sleeve reverence of Morrison’s comics and Queen’s music is nothing new, but Danger Days reveals another ostensible influence, namely in its musical style akin to that of another comic book nerd turned rocker: Coheed & Cambria’s Claudio Sanchez. Way and Sanchez both love to tell a story, and they share an impassioned flamboyance that permeates every aspect of their respective band’s output. Whereas Sanchez and company channeled their efforts into bringing to life an epic space odyssey, MCR (or the Fabulous Killjoys) do battle against an evil corporation in a dystopian future.

The story, as it were, may be cliché, but the songs themselves revel as they aspire to epitomize catchiness. I challenge anyone not to find the mindless fun in “Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na),” or to successfully resist the temptation to sing along with the passionate chorus of “The Only Hope for Me is You.” Their unabashed approach to producing tight, energy-laden songs makes Danger Days one of MCR’s most accessible albums yet; it’s remarkable to think that this is the same band that just a few years ago—that is, pre-Twilight—put out an album about vampires.

Gerard Way and the rest of My Chemical Romance have pulled off something incredible with Danger Days: they do more in less. With each new song I heard listening to this album, I was met with another finely-honed sonic nugget of pop-punk perfection, unfolding a new wrinkle of the Fabulous Killjoys’ tale. Albums this weird and good don’t come along often, but fortunately, given the creative streak that Way’s been on, I wouldn’t be surprised to see many more from MCR in the future.

RATING: 8/10

ARTIST: Kings of Leon
ALBUM TITLE: Come Around Sundown
RECORD LABEL: RCA
RELEASED: October 19

By Chris Kromphardt
Staff Writer, Justice Administrator

I kind of hate to admit this, but part of me hopes it’s not a coincidence that the Kings of Leon chose to open their new album with a song titled simply “The End.”

“This could be the end,” lead singer Caleb Followill repeats, “’cause I ain’t got a home, I’ll forever roam.” That declaration sets the pace for a largely fluffy album that’s missing what made the Kings—the pre-“Use Somebody” Kings—truly special.

Despite throwing a few curveballs that I’d imagine many fans will appreciate—I liked “Back Down South,” “Beach Side,” and the weird-as-shit “Pony Up”—the Kings seem stuck hurling the same pitch over and over, a former four-pitch ace who’s been relegated to the ‘pen and lacks the depth to go more than an inning. Whereas Because Of The Times—which, along with Aha Shake Heartbreak, is the Kings of Leon at their finest—kicks off with three incredibly diverse tracks—“Knocked Up,” “Charmer,” and “On Call”—and nails them all, Come Around Sundown—the ironic first track triumphant—begins with four tracks that are probably already being licensed for minivan commercials.

Photo from celebrific.com

The midsection of the album redeems the snoozefest of a beginning to some degree. Starting with “The Face,” and including the abovementioned “Back Down South” and “Beach Side,” there’s enough quality instrumentals and vocals here to persuade me that the Kings had at least an EP’s worth of something to say; that something being an eclectic mix—some country, some funk, nothing that sounds like it could be played in the same mix as anything by Hinder. That reassured me that the Kings didn’t all of a sudden lose the ability to make good music, they’re just incredibly distracted.

The Kings of Leon were raw as hell when they started out, and it was awesome for exactly one album, Youth And Young Manhood. Fortunately, they’d developed enough as musicians to branch out, and the world took notice with Aha Shake Heartbreak. Because Of The Times came next, and was purely sublime, a progression from where they’d been that presaged the better stuff off of Only By The Night that was still to come. But Come Around Sundown comes across as the product of a roaming band of Followills, without a home. They got monumentally famous with Only By The Night, and deservedly so. But I just fear that it was too much too soon.

Maybe each King needs to take some time off, do some solo work, and get back together only after “Use Somebody” has been consigned thoroughly to being played only in elevators and at PTA bake sales.

RATING: 4/10

ARTIST: Linkin Park
ALBUM: A Thousand Suns
RECORD LABEL: Warner Bros.
RELEASED: September 14

By Chris Kromphardt
Staff Writer, Justice Administrator

Credit where credit’s due: Linkin Park usually does a pretty good job of meeting the lofty expectations inherent in the concept by which the band previously went by in name, and which was the title of both an EP and their first LP: Hybrid Theory.

With each  album they’ve released, they’ve incorporated a little bit of what came before—the initial Theory, which was pretty standard alt-rock combined with some elements of hip-hop such as turntables and rapping—with something new. A Thousand Suns strives for the new to an extent previously unseen by Linkin Park, but never fails to remember what made the band stand out from all the other nu-metalers.

Despite being a long-time fan, I was ready to drop Linkin Park a few years ago, before Minutes to Midnight dropped. Their style just wasn’t feeling fresh anymore; scream, rap, scream, rap, all over turntables and otherwise standard instrumentals. The band had had a willingness to branch out, producing a remix album and a mash-up with Jay-Z, with varying degrees of success—most of the songs riffed on the originals in some cool ways, but with the exception of “Numb/Encore” off Collision Course there was little that was truly groundbreaking. Nothing grabbed me in the way the songs “Crawling” or “Somewhere I Belong” did the first time I heard them.

But Midnight turned me right around. I was pleased to hear the band reaping fruit from seeds planted in earlier songs like “Breaking the Habit,” trying songs that focused more on the singing and the lyrics than on style. The familiar tropes were still present, sometimes better than ever—“Bleed It Out” does some of the best rap-rock juxtaposition I’ve ever heard—but what made Midnight so outstanding was that LP was beginning to act more like a band, and less like a Theory.

Photo from nydailynews.com.

In “When They Come for Me” off Suns, Mike Shinoda touches on the expectations to adhere to the Theory when he raps “‘Cause even the blueprint is a gift and a curse/‘Cause once you have the theory of how the thing works/Everybody wants the next thing to be just like the first.” And LP does stick with the Theory, but on Suns the Hybrid parts are a bit more unconventional than fans have come to expect.

I personally love the new direction the band is taking. It was a little jarring at first to hear the dominance of the less-than-obvious influences of tribal drums, techno, and the Middle East on songs, but these new additions mesh well with an old friend: Chester Bennington’s singing voice. “My December,” an early LP song, showcased a vulnerable Bennington actually singing, not screaming. Don’t get me wrong, I think Bennington’s got a great grasp on incorporating melody into his screaming, but wow, the man can sing as well, too. He occasionally turned to this approach in songs like “Numb,” but on Suns, his considerable skills are on full display.

A Thousand Suns worked for me because I was always a fan of the approach as well as the final product. Linkin Park was always a misnomer to me; Hybrid Theory was what the band was all about. On this album they draw from influences from all over the world, and temper any possible over-cosmopolitanism with the heretofore unrealized power of their lead singer’s range. And because of this, I cannot wait for—or possibly imagine—what they’ll do next.

RATING: 8/10

***“In Defense of the Medium” is a regular column published on Primary Ignition by Chris Kromphardt, staff writer and Justice Administrator. The views expressed here are his alone, and do not reflect those of the staff of Primary Ignition.***

Rod Blagojevich, shamed former Illinois governor (as if there were any other kind of former Illinois governor), fresh off a declared mistrial for 23 of 24 charges emanating from actions that prosecutor Fitzgerald claimed “would make Lincoln turn over in his grave” made the next most logical move after hitting the television circuit to sell, now that he doesn’t have an open Senate seat to bargain with, himself I guess: he went to Comic Con.

AP photo.

Blago was a guest at Wizard World Chicago this past weekend; his John Hancock commanded $50, while the opportunity to be immortalized in a photograph with him was a bargain for convention-goers at $80. 

Whether Blagojevich belongs at Comic Con raises some interesting existential questions about the current state of pop culture; people are considered to be celebrities after some television exec decides to turn them into one by giving them their own show on MTV or E! You could make the argument that a personality like Blago, as skewered nightly as he was (is) by The Daily Show, might warrant a small booth between various freaks of Youtube and retired wrestling superstar Virgil. 

I had a chance to meet pre-indicted Blago, at a party in Denver that he was hosting for a beloved Illinois political figure. He hadn’t been in attendance at any of the other big parties hosted for the Illinois delegation (I can’t confirm whether or not he was invited to them), but for an attention-whore of his magnitude, his scarce presence at the Democratic National Convention strongly implied that he was being kept under wraps and it was only by “honoring” a veteran of the War in Iraq that he was allowed to play a part in the celebration.

As he worked the room, I—and likely most everyone else there—performed a shifting act, keeping an eye on the mound of hair and strategically positioning myself with at least one available escape route at all times. Or at least I tried to. He ended up zeroing in on the group I was with—probably because we were the only ones under 30—and, seizing my hand and not letting go, preceded to tell me about how great it was that Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo had gone to Eastern Illinois University, my school at the time. And after running through a litany of everyone he knew affiliated with EIU, still holding my hand in his cold grip, he made the single most astonishing proposal I have ever received.

“If you and the college democrats ever come to Springfield, I’m sure we could put you up in the Governor’s Mansion.”

He seemed completely sincere, and as I accepted a personalized business card from one of his people and stood staring as he finally moved on, I thought: What the $%#@ just happened here?

I actually followed up on his offer to see to what degree he was pulling my leg, and communicated back and forth a few times with one of his people—I found out, months later and completely at random, that another person in another situation had received the exact same offer—but then he had to go and get indicted.

Blago with Adam West. Photo from C.M. Wiggins/WENN.com.

The point of this whole story is that you couldn’t pay people to mingle with pre-indicted Blago. (You could, however, bribe them into indifference with an open bar).

But comics fans are a curious breed. We’re inclined toward doing strange things, such as ritualistic weekly trips to the comic book store, and collecting busts and sundry other pieces of crap; we’re often quick with the wallet when something has piqued our interest. Maybe Comic Con is the perfect place for Blago—lots of people with open wallets looking for a spectacle, such as the latest Freak of the Week.

But maybe Comic Con really is the right place for Blagojevich for another reason. I’m sure he’d fit right in among the cosplayers, an Edward Scissorhands-sort with head-0f-hair of a Wookie.

***“In Defense of the Medium” is a regular column published on Primary Ignition by Chris Kromphardt, staff writer and Justice Administrator. The opinions expressed here are his, and not those of Primary Ignition, or its staff.***

It’s not your everyday courtroom that hears testimony about “kick-ass lady warrior angels,” just like it’s not your common judicial opinion that includes a description like “…a tall figure clad in what looks like spandex (it is actually “a neural parasite”) beneath a huge blood-red cloak, making him a kind of malevolent Superman figure, although actually rather weak and stupid.”

Photo from Who-Philes.com.

But that’s what you get when comic creators sue each other over copyright issues. Inevitably the suit is going to involve, well, comic stuff. And in the case of Neil Gaiman v. Todd McFarlane, the discussion was over all things Spawn.

I could probably fill a whole column with sundy anecdotes and striking quotes from the case’s proceedings, and while that would be amusing, it wouldn’t much serve this column’s purpose of being introspective about the roles and perceptions of comics as a medium in society.

The details of the latest verdict can be found, among other places, on Maggie Thompson’s blog; Gaiman himself also briefly addressed the suit on his blog in mid-June.  Thefederal district court’s findings—which were upheld by the appellate court; later trials concerned the amount and breadth of damages owed to Gaiman—included that Gaiman had a copyright interest in the characters he created work-for-hire.

Image from superherodb.com

One of the most interesting statements in the opinion, and the one I’d like to focus on, comes from the federal appellate three-judge panel: “Although Gaiman’s verbal description of Cogliostro may well have been of a stock character, once he was drawn and named and given speech he became sufficiently distinctive to be copyrightable. Gaiman’s contribution [in his script] may not have been copyrightable by itself, but his contribution had expressive content without which Cogliostro wouldn’t have been a character at all, but merely a drawing. The expressive work that is the comic-book character Count Nicholas Cogliostro was the joint work of Gaiman and McFarlane—their contributions strike us as quite equal—and both are entitled to ownership of the copyright.”

What makes the decisions in this series of cases so remarkable is how in-depth the judges involved considered how comic books operate as a medium. The above-quote takes into account both Gaiman’s script and McFarlane’s pencils. (And although comic fans will also acknowledge that there’s an inker and a colorist to be credited for the final product, it seems their contributions are not usually enough to warrant copyright consideration). Because most mainstream comics are made in this collaborative fashion,  with different writers and artists, recognizance emerges that ownership issues are more complex than when something is produced by a single creator, like a novel. It is not just the story; it is not just the artistic depiction that construes a comic book character—it is both.

Luke Arnott discussed the implications of the case in an analysis from last year: “Not only are writers and artists both equal creators in comics, but a character must ‘act’ a certain way to be copyrightable in the comics medium.” With the unequivocal decisions in support of this interpretation, the nuances of comic-making have become strong legal precedent.

While the issues at hand here concerned copyright and ownership broadly, the impressive legal treatment of what makes comics comics, that is, the juxtaposition of words and pictures to create a larger whole, will have implications on the respect comics is afforded as a medium.

Front page image from majorspoilers.com.

ARTIST: Broken Bells
TITLE: Broken Bells
RECORD LABEL: Columbia
RELEASED: March 9

By Chris Kromphardt
Staff Writer, Justice Administrator

One is already a stand-out album of 2010. The other was just released July 13, despite being originally slated to come out—and leaking—back in 2009. Their common denominator: producer/self-proclaimed auteur Danger Mouse.

In a 2006 interview with Chuck Klosterman, Danger Mouse—who at the time had been producing Demon Days with the Gorillaz and St. Elsewhere as Gnarls Barkley along with Cee-Lo—likened his approach to producing to writer-director Woody Allen’s approach to filmmaking. Mouse describes an epiphany he had after watching several of Allen’s films: “‘Why do I relate so much to this white 60-year-old Jewish guy? Why do I understand his neurosis?…And what I realized is that they worked because Woody Allen was an auteur.’” Danger Mouse sought to emulate this creative approach as he says no other music producer has, envisioning his role in producing—directing—musicians as guiding them so as to realize the singular conception that is in his head.

Danger Mouse’s producing role enables him to work on numerous projects with multiple artists at a pace any one musician would be crazy to try to match. Earlier this year another Danger Mouse-produced album, Brothers by the Black Keys, was released. His polygamous approach to musicmaking provides a lot of music to sift through to assess his claim of being an auteur.

Broken Bells is the self-titled release by the duo of Danger Mouse and singer James Mercer of The Shins. (Mercer also appears in a track on Dark Night of the Soul, ”Insane Lullaby”, actually predating Broken Bells). It helps to think of Mercer as the lead actor; DeNiro to Mouse’s Scorcese. His work with The Shins was good but often repetitive, whereas Broken Bells sees Mercer demonstrating much greater range. “The Ghost Inside” is a great example of layered vocals; all of them are Mercer’s, some in falsetto, some not.

Danger Mouse lays the foundation with a catchy syncopation, and numerous audible flourishes seamlessly accompany Mercer’s alternating singing styles. A talented producer working with a clear vision and a versatile leading man makes Broken Bells an album you’ll actually want to listen through in its entirety—and if you’re like me, many, many times—because each song’s fresh and yet part of a cohesive whole.

ARTIST: Danger Mouse & Sparklehorse
TITLE: Dark Knight of the Soul
RECORD LABEL: Capitol Records
RELEASE: July 13

Dark Night of the Soul sees a lot more people thrown into the mix, including an actual director, David Lynch (Mulholland Drive, Twin Peaks). Lynch himself could be considered an auteur, given that his work exemplifies the leitmotif of being pretty messed up. Most tracks are performed by different artists, including The Flaming Lips, Black Francis, Julian Casablancas, Mercer, and Iggy Pop (Lynch provides some vocals as well); as a result it’s hard to assess Danger Mouse’s role—if any—as an auteur, especially because he shares credit with Sparklehorse.

Talking about Dark Night, he said: “As we finished the songs with the various artists, we started to notice some interesting patterns…We’d never given specific direction to any of the singers involved, nor had we played them any of the other songs on the album. Yet there seemed to be common themes in the lyrics and feel of the songs. There was pain, revenge, war, twisted dreams and other beautifully haunting visual aspects to it all.”

Dark Night of the Soul doesn’t suffer from lack of vision in the slightest, but it’s one where all of the parts are key; it’s collaborative. The change in style from song to song does create an ambiance of delirium, and as accompanied by the booklet of photographs that’s Lynch’s handiwork, the album’s a pretty harrowing experience.

So what conclusions can we draw from Broken Bells and Dark Night of the Soul about Danger Mouse’s auteur aspirations? The former is a clear example of such a theory, while the latter is more of an accidental one. Danger Mouse doesn’t just produce singles—in fact, he leaves the singing and a lot of lyric writing to the musicians. So, because it seems, short of consulting a director’s commentary, that it’s difficult to discern Danger Mouse’s role on individual tracks, perhaps it’s wise to evaluate his body of work on whole albums; both Broken Bells and Dark Night of the Soul exhibit album-wide vision.

Or to put another way: Woody Allen? Meet Danger Mouse.

RATINGS:
Broken Bells: 9.5/10
Dark Night of the Soul: 8/10

Front page image from vitalicnoise.com.