Tribute

To paraphrase Tenacious D, "This is not The Greatest Ad in the World, no. This is just a tribute."

Rise

I saw Public Image Ltd back in 1989 at Blossom Music Center when they toured with New Order and The Sugarcubes. Twenty years on and that show still holds a special place in my heart. I went to that show with John (in fact, I think I might still owe him money for the ticket), but virtually everyone from my future close college circle of friends and lovers attended that show, and then some.

I wouldn’t meet her for another six-and-a-half years, but my wife was there. While I was on the lawn, Tracy was in the mosh pit down front getting gobbed on by Johnny Lydon himself.

Some combination (or maybe all of) the people John and I would consider our closest circle of freshman year friends at Bowling Green just a few months later were there. I saw Erin wearing a PiL shirt during orientation, which prompted me to go up and talk to her. I’m pretty sure Jeff was at that show, and maybe Jennifer, too.

Marking the 30th anniversary of the landmark Metal Box, Lydon has reformed PiL, and I’ve been keeping tabs on the reissue and reunion news by way of Slicing Up Eyeballs. I doubt I’ll ever see Lydon or PiL live in Northeast Ohio again, but this pulsating seven-and-a-half minute live version of “Rise” from their first show in 17 years is enough to bring a nostalgic smile to my face.

I could be wrong. I could be right.

Catching Up on Music History

I met Simon Reynolds at the Pop Conference in Seattle back in 2007, where we were both presenters (on different panels). We ended up seated next to each other on the last day of the conference for the "Future of Thinking About Music for a Living" roundtable discussion. He was a pleasant enough guy and it was cool to meet him, but even with that personal connection and the fact that his book Rip It Up and Start Again is clearly right in my wheelhouse, I had not read the book before now.

Well, I take that back. After that roundtable, I recall having quite a bit of time to kill before my flight home that afternoon, so I wandered around downtown Seattle and found a bookstore to hole up in. While there, I read the chapter in Rip It Up on Pere Ubu and Devo and the Northeast Ohio influence on postpunk, along with perusing some of the 33 1/3 books that were written by some of my fellow panelists and others I’d met that weekend.

But this has been a fun year of filling embarrassingly huge holes in my personal music history knowledge. I finally got around to reading the incredible oral history of punk, Please Kill Me by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain. I also picked up I Swear I Was There: The Gig that Changed the World by David Nolan, another oral history that attempts to piece together who actually attended and the band genealogy that sprung out of the two Sex Pistol shows at the Lesser Free Trade Hall in Manchester. And now, Rip It Up.

I can’t play a lick and Tracy would kill me if I attempted to carry a tune, but I love music. I love all kinds of music, but classic punk that bleeds into postpunk and alternative (what we called “college radio” back in the day) holds special sway over me from both a nostalgic perspective and an objective stance. There is a rich history to this branch of the rock and roll tree, and it’s great to have it chronicled so precisely. And Rip It Up is precise. If you’re looking for the loose and laid-back approach of Please Kill Me, this isn’t it.

Topically, Rip It Up is the perfect sequel to Please Kill Me. But Rip It Up takes a decidedly more academic, music journalistic bent in its approach, tone, and delivery. And this is not a complaint, because Reynolds is good at what he does. The book is a deep-dive into what punk begat, tracing the evolution from its beginnings with PiL rising from the fevered brain of Johnny Lydon after the dissolution of the Sex Pistols, spiraling out to synthpop, MTV, Goth, and beyond. Reynolds breaks things down chapter-by-chapter, with each one focusing on a specific sub-group or geographic location or set of similar artists within the larger postpunk movement.

2009 seems to have turned into The Year Adam Got Up-to-Speed on All the Music Reading Essentials He Previously Overlooked. If you’re digging on this topic, you should definitely check out Synth Britannia (in which Reynolds is the only non-musician talking head). And if you enjoyed 2002’s 24 Hour Party People, Anton Corbijn’s beautiful Ian Curtis biopic, Control, is a must see.

Marvel Unbound - Captain Britain Omnibus

I am a huge fan of the oversized collections comic book publishers produce, including DC’s Absolute Edition line, Marvel’s Omnibus series and their general oversized hardcovers, and Dark Horse’s Library Edition collections. There is a certain prestige to the format.

Whether you shop DCBS or conventions or even Amazon, there is really no reason to pay full cover price for one of these books. But if you’re going to publish a book in one of these formats and put a $100 price tag on it, I expect some care to be put into the final product. Marvel’s Captain Britain Omnibus has been a bit of a let down from a packaging perspective.

Of the material collected here, I don't think I'd previously read any of it, so it’s fair to say I didn’t bring any prior character knowledge to the table. From a content perspective, it’s great to have these stories collected and the window into the Marvel UK format is fascinating. Unfortunately, the presentation is marred by stripped-down credits and incorrect table of contents on the opening pages.

I have a fair number of omnibuses on my shelf, and to be fair, there are others besides the Captain Britain book that sport the boring opening page format (Devil Dinosaur and Secret Wars for starters), but the errors in the Captain Britain Omnibus compounds the problem. The original publishing date of Captain America #306, June 1985, is incorrectly cited as June 1986. This oversight is more glaring by the fact that Captain America #305 is also in this collection and the covers of both are reprinted here, so the correct date is easy to divine.

Also, there are introductions by Alan Davis and Alan Moore, both from 2001, then a character recap that is completely uncredited. As far as the actual reprinted content, I’m torn. The storylines are enjoyable and an interesting glimpse at Marvel’s early 1980s presence in Britain, but there are words missing from dialog boxes throughout... sometimes there is white space in a sentence where it’s obvious there was a printing error, and other places words were just plain left out of the original published material.

Maybe I’m making too big of a deal out of this, and maybe I’m overly sensitive to it for a number of reasons: First, I have edited a book and articles and have an eye for simple errors like these. So I know these things should be caught, and when they’re not it just feels sloppy. Also, I am a writer who has published my own book and agonized over finding the right price-point for it in the hopes that my readers feel they’ve gotten their money’s worth out of it and the value was inherent (including a lack of typos and the facts correct). Finally, I am a consumer who, although I didn’t pay cover price for the omnibus, spent my hard-earned money on it. And when there are issues like this from a book at this price from a company of Marvel’s stature, it’s disappointing and feels a little like they didn’t really care about the product they were putting out there. But the contents of the book are enough to recommend it.

The first half of the omnibus (23 issues of Marvel Super-Heroes and The Daredevils) weaves a wonderful story of alternate universes that affect one another and contains the first mention anywhere in Marvel comics of the Earth 616 designation. It’s pretty cool to see the way the story is handed off between Dave Thorpe and Paul Neary to Alan Moore to Jamie Delano. Threads are never left unresolved, each chapter in the story has meaning and future implications. The Marvel UK model of six- to ten-page stories per book are a study in efficient recaps, wasting not a moment beyond what is necessary to bring the reader up to speed.

The second half of the book, comprised of 25 issues of The Mighty World of Marvel and Captain Britain, along with a handful of US Marvel comics appearances (New Mutants and X-Men annuals, the previously mentioned Captain America issues), remains pretty consistent even when the writing duties jump around a bit.

I believe there is just one thing missing from the collection: There is a reference in Captain America #305 where Cap thinks, “That doesn’t look like the Captain Britain I’ve met before – ” and it references ROM #65. I know there are rights issues to the ROM property, so it makes sense that issue isn’t included.

The bonus material is an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach that befits an omnibus. Alan Davis’ character and costume designs, scripts, pin-ups and posters, back-up stories, all the covers of all the issues and previous collections that contained any of these stories, a Grant Morrison story and a Chris Claremont essay, and even reproductions of both covers offered for this omnibus are presented here.

Despite the nuts and bolts of the packaging falling well short of the expectations set by the collection’s label and price tag, the Captain Britain Omnibus is an incredibly entertaining read and can be recommended on the strength Marvel UK model it exhibits.

An Embarrassing Confession

I love Jeff Parker’s work. Perusing his comic book resume is a venerable list of comics that pepper my personal collection. But I think I am the only comic fan I know who isn’t completely smitten with Agents of Atlas. I want to like it – hell, I want to love it! – but it just hasn’t clicked with me.

As someone who has flirted with music journalism, I would say a negative review is one of the toughest things to write. It’s easy to gush about stuff you enjoy, but to put together a thoughtful negative review is always challenging. First, you don’t want to come off like you’re just piling on or being vindictive or just ranting to hear your own voice. Second, you don’t want to be disrespectful to the artist or creator.

Chris Marshall recently praised the Agents of Atlas hardcover collections on Collected Comics Library. All of my comic book fan friends gush over the book. I had dinner with Dave Wachter the other night, and as you would expect to happen when two comic fans get together, the conversation eventually turned to what we have enjoyed reading lately. And what title was Dave quick to say: Agents of Atlas. So still I remain, the only person I know with whom that book and team hasn’t connected.

But the conversation with Dave may have finally helped me realize why I'm not digging the book. Dave raved that he loved how it combined noir with super heroes with espionage with ’50s style sensibilities, and I think that might be it... for me, the book suffers from an identity crisis. And maybe it’s because I love Ed Brubaker and Matt Fraction’s Immortal Iron Fist so much, but Agents of Atlas also feels like, at its heart, it treads a little too close to that same Eastern mysticism territory.

My favorite issues of the series have been the ones where folks like the Hulk and Captain America and Namor have guested. I genuinely feel horrible that I don’t like this book, like there is something wrong with my comic tastes that this creation by a writer I admire and an artist I enjoy, that this team of eclectic characters who seem right up my alley, that this mix of genres I love is somehow not clicking for me.

Obviously my opinion is firmly in the minority, and that’s ok. I’m not trying to sway anyone from enjoying Agents of Atlas. And I certainly don’t mean any disrespect to the creator because I love most everything of Parker’s I read, I love the work of the artists that bring his writing to life, and every interaction I’ve had with Parker via Twitter has been great. Heck, in spite of never really falling in love with the book, I purchased all 11 issues of the second volume along with the X-Men vs. Agents of Atlas two-issue mini. I just have found that – machinegun wielding, kick-ass Gorilla-Man aside – Agents of Atlas just isn’t my thing. Sorry.

Hoop Dreams

The kiddo isn’t a great athlete, but he’s not horrible either. He has a zest for life and an enthusiasm to everything he throws himself into. Currently, he’s playing in the school’s youth basketball league. There are five third grade teams. They practice on Tuesday nights and play two games Saturday mornings through all of November and most of December. Games are played at the two middle school gymnasiums – they play half court games, but the full width of the court.

Each team in the league (third grade through sixth) is given the opportunity to scrimmage on the high school gym floor during halftime of a varsity boys basketball game. The kiddo’s team’s turn was Friday night.

If you follow me on Twitter, you know I’ve been traveling a lot for work the last couple of months, but I’ve made it home every weekend for the kiddo’s games. I was in Pittsburgh again this past week, and I knew I needed to get home in time for his big moment on the court.

Because nothing goes as planned, I had actually padded my calendar to accommodate my leaving Pittsburgh late, and I’m glad I did. I ended up leaving an hour-and-a-half later than originally planned, and got stuck in rush hour traffic downtown. But I caught a break when I called Tracy from the road and realized the varsity game was starting at 7:30 instead of 7:00.

I ended up walking into the high school gym with two minutes left in the first half! Prefect timing. And the first person I saw was the kiddo, who was lined up with his team, waiting for their big moment. After I got a giant I-missed-you-all-week hug, I found my way over to Tracy and the other youth parents we’re friends with who were all sitting together.

Halftime wasn’t very long, but sandwiched between the dance squad’s routine at the beginning of it and the varsity teams warming back up at the end, the kiddo and his mates had their five or so minutes in the sun! Playing full court ball, running hard end-to-end, hustling, and trying their best.

Before their scrimmage started, I told Tracy, “You watch, he won’t touch the ball once tonight, but will still have the greatest time ever.” And I was right. He didn’t get his hands on the ball, but he had fun. He hustled on defense, ran the length of the court hard, and was clearly having a blast out there with his friends. I was so proud of him.

Leaving the school later, there were a couple of high school girls at the entrance. They saw the kiddo – still in his basketball jersey, shorts, and sports goggles – and told him he did a nice job. The kiddo said “Thank you” in that awkward eight-year-old-getting-a-compliment-from-a-high-school-girl kind of way, and I know he was proud of himself, too.

Yo, Joe!

I love G.I. Joe. Not the action figures. I bought and played with them briefly in the early ’80s as a preteen. Not the cartoon. I was in my mid-teens by the time the cartoon hit the airwaves. But that original Marvel comic book series was the centerpiece of my comic world in the ’80s. I read and loved that book for half a decade. It was the last comic I collected before walking away from comic books completely in high school. To say G.I. Joe holds a special place in my personal comic pantheon would be an understatement. So when you go and make a movie of it, you better believe I’m bringing a footlocker’s worth of nostalgic baggage to the table.

I admit I was swayed by early reviews and a lack of positive buzz around this summer’s G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra big-budget flick, so I stayed away from the theater. My friend David and I have a theory: If a movie – especially a movie with roots or ties to the comic book culture – is not getting good reviews, then avoid the flick’s initial run and catch it later at home after the hype machine has died down. It worked for Ghost Rider. It worked for X-Men Origins: Wolverine. And, I am thrilled to report that, yes, it worked for G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra, too.

I couldn’t believe how readily I was able to suspended disbelief for anything the movie threw at me and just surrender to the thrill-ride fun. And I was even more surprised at how easy it was for me to set aside everything I know and love about the history and continuity of the G.I. Joe franchise and embrace [SPOILER] Baroness and Cobra Commander being siblings, Snake Eyes taking a vow of silence, The Pit located in North Africa, Duke and the Baroness linked romantically [SPOILER], and so on.

Even Tracy, who has no point of reference whatsoever for the franchise outside of the chapter I devote to the Real American Heroes in my book, enjoyed the movie. We had a fun time passing a couple of hours, and I would definitely check out a sequel… after it makes its way to DVD, of course.