Semantic Reviews

I Remain Skeptical: Previews of Future Movie Reviews

2009-01-28T08:52:00.001-08:00

by Amanda Bulman

The Watchman Movie.

The Watchmen looks like it has the potential to be one of those I -don’t want-it-to -end, movie experiences. The previews are visually stimulating, the actress who plays Sally Jupiter is so beautiful as to be frightening, and the script is based almost entirely on the award winning book. So why am I sceptical? Well for one Hollywood has a habit of fucking up books that I love. Pride and Prejudice(excepting the BBC version starring the sponge worthy Colin firth),V is for Vendetta, and A Scanner Darkly are probably the most perfect examples of good literature turned bad via the silver screen.

Secondly I believe that directors, script writers, and producers doubt their audience’s intelligence. Most of the blame for screwing up my favourite books brought to the big screen, lies with direction(and whoever has made the decision to cast Keanu Reeves, but then that’s a different story). Directors seem to think that viewing audiences are mindless and incapable of understanding the complexity of novels, and thus movie goers get to see bland, boring, and simple versions of some of the world’s most beautiful books. The director of The Watchmen already has a few strikes to his name. He is the man responsible for the monstrosity that was 300. The only way that film could have been worse is if the casting director had decided that Arnold Swartzenegger would make a perfect and hard Spartan wife. Even Frank Miller(a man with legendary amounts of arrogance) admitted to being embarrassed after 300 was released. So, due to what will surely be poor directing and the habit of Hollywood to wreck good literature I remain Sceptical.

Audrey Tautou as Coco Chanel in the upcoming Biopic

I love the fashion legacy of Coco Chanel as much as the next style obsessed female. I really do. I yearn for a black quilted bag with interlocking C’s. I buy clothes that emphasize my boyish frame. I’ve lived my life in LBD’s, dedicated an unhealthy amount of time to the hunt for the perfect sportswear separates, and I have even attempted to wear a straw boater in public(much to the dismay of cooler friends). But Chanel herself, wasn’t all glamour, good times and high flying friends. She also was not the first feminist fashion designer. In actuality Gabriel “Coco” Chanel was a snobby elitist, who scorned those who didn’t dress in her own simple manner, who appeared to hate those women who were more famous or beautiful than herself, and who was, according to popular rumour, a Nazi sympathizer.

So why is Hollywood going out of it’s way to martyr and celebrate a woman, whose legacy in fashion is large, but whose personal life was riddled with mistakes and highly questionable, even racist, beliefs? I realize that recent popular biopics also featured individuals who made mistakes(Jonny Cash, Ray Charles), but the bad life choices of these

singers a)helped them achieve greatness, and b) seem minute compared to the crime of hating and plotting against large sections of the world’s population. An even better question might be to ask why Hollywood is making a film about fashion and materialism in such hard economic times. I mean I believe in the movies as an escape as much as the next girl, but watching a film about glamour, wine, caviar, and scarily priced hotel suites, when I can barely afford the ten dollar ticket isn’t escapism-it’s torture. And finally why would anyone cast sweet-as-pie, baby faced Audrey Tautou as the hard, and ill-humoured Coco Chanel?

He’s Just Not That Into You

The upcoming release of He’s Just Not That Into You, is the winter movie that inspires the most doubt. The idea of basing a plot driven film on a plotless pop psych book penned by a TV writer (who I’m sure has loads of experience and qualification in counselling psychology) seems completely stupid at best. To begin with, the book and movie could not share a more mean spirited title, it reminds me of the time I spied Depression for Dummies, and The Complete Idiots Guide to Confidence, on the shelves of Indigo. Secondly the message of the book(and presumably the movie ) is that sometimes men that you may want to date, for some inexplicable reason, just do not want to be with you. This advice is so obvious, so simple, and so similar to the advice that moms the world over have been dishing out for years, that I cannot fathom why anyone should be buying this book for twenty dollars, or seeing the movie for ten.

The film also stars a whole host of individuals who maybe shouldn’t be acting anymore. Drew Barrymore may have been cute in her prime, but it’s been awhile since I enjoyed watching her be annoyingly bubbly on screen. And since when did the Mac guy(Justin Long) play serious characters? It’s got an Ashton Kutcher wants to be taken seriously in the Butterfly Effect vibe to it. Finally, I wish I could I deep six Scarlett Johansen from Hollywood for the good of humanity. Knowing that a beautiful woman who can barely emote, can find work in Hollywood when thousands of more talented(but less physically stunning) actors and actresses struggle to find work hurts my head and haunts my dreams. Silly Hollywood.

...

2009-01-28T08:48:00.000-08:00

"Always the Bridesmaid" EP Collection

The Decemberists

Capitol/2008

Review by Patrick Weeks

In late 2008, Portland's prodigal shanty-singers released a 3 volume series of EPs entitled, "Always the Bridesmaid," and titled by volume, "Valerie Plame," "Days of Elaine," and, "Record Year for Rainfall."

I will be honest and admit that I am a dyed-in-the-wool Decemberists fanboy. I have seen their tours, I have paid for all their work, and I have often wished my mother was a Chinese trapeze artist. When I heard about this compilation, it was tough to from getting over-excited. At the time of the first volume's release there had been a great deal of speculation about the next full length album, and it was my hope that Always the Bridesmaid would be an insight into this future work (now known to be entitled "The Hazards of Love" and expected for release in April).

I waited until recovering from my hysteria before hitting the play button, and to my great disappointment little effort was required to remain calm. There were undeniable standout tracks on the EPs. Volume one's title track, written as a march in the style of "Sixteen Military Wives," gave me hope as the opener. Volume three consisted of two tracks, "A Record Year for Rainfall" and "Raincoat Song." While lacking in their usual literary genius, these tracks upheld the group's reputation for great storytelling. But my real beef was in the middle. Volume two began with "Days of Elaine," a track which I found bland, and seemingly written to be a pop-radio hit (I perish the thought). The bleak situation was exacerbated by track two, "Days of Elaine (Long Version)." True to words, it was what it stated: the worst song in the collection, only longer. And to put the icing on the cake, track three, a campy cover of The Velvet Underground's "I'm Sticking With You."

The phrase "does not compute" springs to mind. A bad track, followed by the same bad track only worse. Then the coup de gras, the modern kings of pretentious obscurity covering their post-war nihilist counterparts. Who the hell produced this? And if bad covers and contemporary lyrics are what we should expect from The Hazards of Love, look out Colin Meloy. I know for certain that somewhere there will be an angry mob of Victorian Alt-Pop fans in cravats and hoop skirts, waiting to trounce this guy.

Ghost Town

2009-01-17T17:18:00.000-08:00

September 2008
Directed by David Koepp
Starring Ricky Gervais, Greg Kinnear

Review by Rebecca JEWELL

When I am asked what kind of movies I like, I reply with two words: original ones. So many films nowadays feature the same plot, same twists and same jokes as every other film of their genre. It's difficult, then, for me to say what it was that enticed me to go see Ghost Town (I will admit I did not know who Ricky Gervais was at this point, so I cannot even credit him as the source of my interest). The concept seems like one of the most well used in cinema, especially over the past few years: a person finds themselves with the ability to communicate with ghosts. Perhaps the first thing that caught my eye when reading the synopsis was that the awkward, anti-social protagonist, Bertram Pincus (Ricky Gervais), is a dentist. That quirk caught my interest, but it was the film’s quality that made me see it more than once.
Gervais' comedic style shines through perfectly in his portrayal the bitter Pincus. After what should have been a routine hospital procedure, he discovers he died briefly during it and has developed the ability communicate with ghosts. Now Pincus is stuck with more people to avoid- people who all want his help and are desperate to get it. One very persistent ghost, Frank Herlihy (played by Greg Kinnear), employs Pincus to break up the engagement of Herlihy's widow Gwen (played by Téa Leoni). However, Pincus' complete lack of social skills makes it difficult for him to even begin a conversation with Gwen, and the constant interruption of the ghosts doesn't help much either. The first time I saw Ghost Town, I missed a good number of the jokes because the entire theatre (including myself) was still roaring with laughter from the previous one. The dynamics between characters were excellent, especially between Pincus and Herlihy. And not only is Ghost Town one of my most favourite movies, it has the best soundtrack of any film I have seen. The Beatles, Citizen Cope and John Mayer all contribute wonderfully and make the movie that much more enjoyable. Ghost Town goes above and beyond the clichés and overused material found too often in movies. It is clever, funny, heartwarming and entertaining. And after a long week, I think I'm going to curl up with a hot chocolate, my laptop, and this movie.

What Craig St. Jean is Eating

2009-01-04T20:30:00.000-08:00

UPEI's most compelling Convive returns with another mealtime missive

By Craig St. Jean

Hey guys, it's 2009 blah blah blah, the state of the food world is basically the same etc etc, but before I reclaim my throne as the Semantic's meal-ticket and get back to telling you what to eat, I have a bone to pick, because I just can't let this go: Those of you who read the first edition of the Panther Post-- which was hopefully very few of you (I mean, seriously....god)-- may have noticed the work of an impostor in it's pages. In a most flagrant and foul violation of my intellectual property rights, reporter Paige Mattieu attempted a food review. Like, WTF??? Is the Panther Post (ugh, I can barely bring myself to type that awful, awful new name) so bereft of ideas that it must resort to aping my bread and butter, as it were? I will not be so obtuse and arrogant as to stake claim to the invention of the food review, but Semantic faithful tend to know what's up, and undoubtedly realize that two cannot eat from this plate.

If imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, then I thank the PP for their adulation, but loyal Semanticists know that adding water only dilutes the flavor. Props to Paige for a well-written article, but did UPEI readers really prefer her Pablum to my Original Recipe™? I think they could taste the difference. In a nutshell, the PP wants its finger in the pie, but they ain't worth their salt. They bit off more than they can chew. I'M the one who brings home the bacon. If you missed that article and can't believe this is not bullshit, you might find the offending issue by digging to the bottom of a trash can on campus-- you know, the place where that paper belongs. I hereby challenge Paige to fight me. Or at least take me on in an eating contest.

Protecting my rep is always a bit of a bother, but ultimately, I've got bigger fish to fry. So let's get to the reason why you picked up this paper in the first place: To find out WHAT CRAIG ST. JEAN IS EATING. Well, the answer is, a lot. In fact, my recent meals have been so tryptophantastic that my blood-turned-gravy and brain-turned-stuffing are seriously curbing my ability to develop an extended narrative here. So, for the ease of my mind and your consumption, here is a list of some of some of my favorite fodder as of late.

Suggestions for delicious ingestion:

Leonhards Cafe and Bakery: Get some soup. For serious. THEY HAVE POTATO AND BACON SOUP! I know, you're probably shitting yourself just thinking about it. But, shockingly, they can do ya one better. I sauntered in there one crisp December afternoon, intent on making a gastronomic gamble. When informed that Pea was the soup du jour, I daringly demanded that bacon be added to my bowl, and I'm sure glad I did, because that brown-speckled orange mush was the most glorious soup ever served, in my very important opinion. Try it for yourself sometime, but be warned that it will only resemble the beauty of my bowl-- it will never be matched.

Burger King's Angry Whopper: BK gets shit on/written off unfairly far too often. It happens every day. It's happening right now, because so there are so many uncultured idiots that are racist against BK. Fight the power by ordering an Angry Whopper. If you thought that the Spicy Baconator was better than the Plain Baconator (it was) and miss the option since Wendy's so rudely removed it from their repertoire, you'll probably agree that the Angry Whopper convincingly outperforms the Plain Whopper in the taste-stakes. Onion rings and jalapeño peppers on a burger? How can you lose?!

Brit's: This place ranks among the elite as some of Charlottetown's most vehement purveyors of GREEZE. They're worthy of a full-on focus article, but I'll just mention a few key points here: The folks at Brit's use their deepfryer like magicians use their wands. It's kind of like how Jesus turned water into wine, except it's for real and there's more deepfrying. THEY HAVE DEEPFRIED PIZZA!!! I've ordered it a couple times. Crispy on the outside, soft and gooey on the inside, and it's CHEAP. Dig it. Also, Brit's angus burger closer approaches the supernal brilliance of Black and White's half-pounder (see: my first article, some months ago) than any other burger I've eaten.

Lot 30: Stunning, I know, but I actually hauled myself out of my grease puddle to check this place out. Yes, I almost slipped on my way through the door. Normally I wouldn't hit up a high class joint like this, but as Charlottetown's newest and greatest culinary celebrity, I wanted to see if they could impress me. While perusing the menu, I was struck by a disturbing lack of GREEZE, but resolved to give it a shot anyway. I apprehensively ordered the the white wine-braised Pork Belly with Yukon Gold Potatoes and crab apple syrup. My server assured me that it was their fattiest cut of meat, and that the potatoes would kind of be like putting fries in a blender. Lo and behold, it turned out to be the second best meal I ate that day (just short of the donair I had for lunch). I heartily recommend it. Oddly, though, I was charged full price for my dinner. I figured someone would recognize me and dispose of the bill accordingly. Oh well, I'm including my picture below so they won't make the same mistake again:

(pic)

Next time: Something extraordinarily greasy!

Bird a Noble Beast

2009-01-04T20:00:00.000-08:00

Andrew Bird
Noble Beast
2009/Fat Possum Records

by Kate McKENNA

I've met - well, heard - my true love, and his name is Andrew Bird. We've been inseparable since acquainting in early 2006, and our bond has grown insurmountably since. A lady loves to gush, and while I'm hesitant to share, I've kept him a secret for far too long -
I don't know if it's the whistling, the strings (oh, how I love the strings!), or his sultry tones, but Andrew Bird's newest album, Noble Beast, is excellent from start to finish.

Initially, Noble Beast doesn't captivate as quickly as Bird's first four solo albums. Like his prior albums, Bird demands a degree of attention paid to his work - the subtly of his arrangement, the layering of songs, the quality of production and the sensitive, clever lyrics can't be appreciated as background music. Succinctly, Prozak fans need not apply. Unlike his past four albums, however, Bird seems to have found his niche. Bird's niche is in idiosyncrasies - his lyrics are obscure and arcane, his melodies are bizarre and wrote with a wide array of instruments. Bird has no qualms to plod experimentally ahead, to the beat of his (bongo) drum. Nothing has changed, but somehow, it's all come together.

People more cruel than I have mocked Bird for his girly name, and also, for occasionally being strikingly similar to elevator music. Alas, I concede the first, and somewhat concede the second. In his specific sub-genre of indie rock, his competitors fill the brim with mediocrity. Bird is set apart by his ability to write one helluva catchy song, and perhaps by his penchant to write on science, existentialism, and evolutionary psychology. Does that sound unappealing to you? Get your hands on his last album, Armchair Apocrypha, and prove me wrong. It's nothing short of brilliant.

Standout tracks on Noble Beast include "Not A Robot, But A Ghost", "Natural Disaster" and "Anonanimal". Though not yet available for purchase, it is due for release on January 20th, 2009.

Ladyhawke

2009-01-04T18:22:00.000-08:00

Artist: Ladyhawke

Album: Ladyhawke

Label/Year: Modular Records, 2008

By Aimee POWER

Semantic Volume 1, Issue 8

This past Fall, a few friends of mine had been raving about this sexy dance beast dubbed Ladyhawke. While traveling, I saw a poster for an upcoming show, and I was quite excited until I learned that the show was actually for Ladyhawk, a scruffy rock band from Vancouver. Oops. This prompted me to do my homework and acquire a copy of the real lady’s one and only album, Ladyhawke.

It came out last September from a New Zealander who is clearly influenced by the eighties - obviously, she is a die-hard Stevie Nicks fan. Although the current 80’s revival is awesome to some and nauseating to others, she embraces her love for that era in her self-titled album. You were warned. Although many pop-dance artists have been recently going down the sparkly-synth-y route, I find that Ladyhawke has proven to be much more versatile. The songs “Crazy World” and “Love Don’t Live Here” have a strong Pat Benatar rock vibe while “Morning Dream” is very romantic, almost cutesy. Ladyhawke’s big singles, “Back of a Van” and “Paris is Burning” are rad dance songs that will make you want to sing along obnoxiously on the dance floor or in your car. You can also find a remix of Paris is Burning by Peaches, which you won’t regret downloading.

All and all, I love the simplicity and youthfulness of this album. Although it is dripping with trendy nostalgia, I find it to be quite sincere and rockin’ amongst the sparkle. Request her at a local indie pop night near you.

What Craig St. Jean is Eating (Donairs!!)

2008-10-28T17:46:00.000-07:00

By Craig St. JEAN (The Semantic Volume 1, Issue 5)

The Semantic's most-maverick gourmand writes from the gut. This week: A sloppy sojourn to donair town.

Pop open a bag of chips in revelry, for Her Royal Tyranness, Ms. McKenna, has placed a firm vote of confidence in my corner-- I'm proud to proclaim that WHAT CRAIG ST. JEAN IS EATING is staying in The Semantic! As your resident low-class culinary cognoscente, it is my mission to bring you ravenous readers the incisive, meat-dicing, loaf-slicing commentary that you desperately crave. It's a complicated world out there-- each day we are inundated with a glut of complex choices and decisions, so when it comes to matters of the maw, it's best to simply close your eyes, turn off your brain, and put what I tell you in your mouth. Last issue's burger review was a good start, but now that I've got my my feet wet and my appetite even whetter, it's time to really get down to business. In this installment of nutritional negligence, I bring you an investigative report into Charlottetown's donair scene: which ones rule? which ones suck? which ones are larger than a small child? Delicious answers lie ahead...

...but before I get there, I think it's apropos to backtrack a bit and appreciate the origins of the donair. The donair that we know and love in Atlantic Canada is essentially a variation of a Turkish dish known as the "Döner Kebab." Cut in strips from a vertical spit, döner kebab meat was often that of lamb, but sometimes beef, and was typically served on a pita or something of the sort. Depending on the restaurant on the east coast, vestiges of the donair's Mediterranean/Middle Eastern ancestry will be betrayed in varying degrees of ethnic flavor. From conversations with my New England relatives, I have determined that an American approximation also exists, developed in the Greek tradition and going by the name of a "gyro" or "giro." Again, the dish is comprised of sliced lamb or beef and served on a pita, with varying sauces and vegetables thrown into the mix. The Atlantic Canadian donair is believed to have been pioneered in Halifax, which seems believable enough if one is to check out all of the city's downtown corner stores restaurants. The approach around is to top the meat with with chopped tomatoes, onions, and sometimes cheese. The CRAIG ST. JEAN approach, however, is to ditch the vegetable bullshit and ALWAYS add cheese. Ordered this way, it's a veritable Atlantic Canadaian ambrosia. Quebec has poutine, we have donairs, and now you have MY advice on where to get 'em:

You've pretty much got 4 options. Sadly, one of those options is repulsive to the point that I'm dismayed I'm even allowing myself to mention it. But for the sake of the curious and the donair n00bs, it's PEI Pizza on Kent St. Yes, what once was a glorious satellite of the Jack's Pizza operation, and thus a purveyor of the indomitable Jack's donair, is now but a shell of its former self. In terms of serving awesome donairs, at least. I ate one there once; never again! I'm feeling a little nauseous simply from the memory. Please, if you have never eaten a donair, do not let their's be your first! And please, allow me to move onwards and upwards.

Of the three remaining options, two are pretty good. First, there's Greco, which serves a donair that doesn't have a whole lot in common with the more traditional ones described above. It's the type of dish that's appealing when you wish to put absolutely no effort into eating your food (which, come to think of it, is basically Taco Bell's biggest selling point for me) and when you don't mind getting a little messy. No work required here-- just slurp it down. I'd suggest donning sweatpants during the act, especially if it's 3pm and this is your first meal of the day. Any points I'd detract are lost in the flavor department. It's still tasty, mind you; it's just that it merely knocks on the door while it's superiors smash through without warning. Second, there's Dino's. Now here's a place that deserves an entire article all it's own (keep an eye out!). These dudes revel in all things donair, and in fact, some of their donair variations far surpass the staple item. I'd love to digress into details, but I've got guidelines to follow here. Their basic donair clearly falls in line with the traditional Halifax donair-- the kind you'll find on Pizza corner.The meat has a stronger hint of that Mediterranean flavor, so Lebanese lovers might find themselves more enamored of the Dino's donair than I am. It's good, though I wish the sauce wasn't cold when it's added, but you won't go too far astray with this one.

So what is the champion of donairs? I sort of spilled the beans above... Jack's Pizza, on University Ave, holds the honor. Their's is like, The Donair of A Thousand Truths. My first time eating this thing was like being reunited with a long lost brother. I embraced it tightly with both hands, and asked "where have you been all my life?." Things haven't been the same since (I now have cholosterol issues....tasty, tasty cholosterol issues). It's really all about the meat. I don't know where it comes from or what the hell is in it, and I don't want to know. I just want more of it. You might do well to wear a garbage bag while you handle this thing, but the mess is part and parcel with the appeal of a Jack's donair. It's about rejecting the notion that great food must be eaten from a plate "daintily" with "utensils." So, really, it's not just a food, it's a statement. In fact, it's a lifestyle. Go there now and order their largest donair. It outweighs the average 3 year old, and it's twice as delicious. Tell them I sent you.

Oh, and as unrelated addendum, I'm going to give this year's Thanksgiving dinner an 8/10. Good job, mom.

NEXT ISSUE: Something extraodinarily greasy!"

Final Fantasy Levels Up

2008-10-28T16:57:00.000-07:00

Owen Pallett is accumulating a pretty impressive resume. Best known for providing the strings for Montreal Indie behometh The Arcade Fire, he has quietly amassed a large cult following with his critically acclaimed side project, Final Fantasy. Capturing the inagural Polaris Prize in 2006 for his theme album (aptly based off the schools of magic for the RPG Dungeons and Dragons) He Poos Clouds. He has worked with Grizzly Bear, Beirut, Jim Guthrie, and The Hidden Cameras. Recently, on CBC programme ‘Q’, Pallett announced his intention to finish his newest album, Heartland, in 2008. And more recently, an EP was released to (popular music blog) Stereogum including several tracks intended to be on the upcoming album.

That EP, entitled Spectrum, 14th Century, will change your life.

Admittedly not a huge Pallett fan - I liked his sophmoric release, Has a Good Home, but could not get into He Poos Clouds in the same capacity - I listened to the EP with the same skepticism that I’ve come to associate with him. He’s good, definitely a pioneer in his field, but his music lacked a certain je ne sais quoi that made it accessible to me in a long term fashion. I liken the feeling to chewing bubble gum - it occupies the mouth, tastes pretty sweet, but when it loses its taste, it’s meant to be thrown out. No longevity in gum, and for me, no longevity in that kind of music. Gimmicky, but without the gimmicks.

In Pallett’s recent tracks, he surpasses this with a peculiar (but welcome!) ease. Combining the depths of the tracks with his stellar songwriting and exciting hooks, he comes up with near-perfection and blows his Montreal counterparts far, far away. Premature, perhaps, but if the album is this good, then he’ll easily land my top ten favorite albums of 2008.
Pallett takes and edgy approach when mapping out the fictious Spectrum. Combining bird noises (akin yet completely different to Logan Aube’s hockey anthem, ‘Hockey Scores’). If unfamiliar with the works prior of Final Fantasy, do not expect predictable violin pieces - his songs are beautifully arranged, but on occasion, screachy, angry, and sonically demanding.

Standout track, The Butcher, has scored 42 plays on my (uber snobby) iTunes in the past three days. I abhour using the word ‘epic’, but in the case of Final Fantasy, I feel any other word would be an injustice.

The Healing Power of Smothered in Hugs

2008-10-28T16:55:00.000-07:00

By Isaac BERZINS (The Semantic, Volume 1, Issue 1)

Thumping drums, dirty guitar tone, enthusiastic bass, floating keyboard sections, and powerful lead vocals encompass what Smothered in Hugs' new album, The Healing Power of Injury, is all about. Containing thirteen tracks of indie-rock goodness, it features all the live songs we know and love, from Visa Problems, to Young Flare. Smothered in Hugs are making some big steps with their first full-length release.

The CD grabs your attention from the get-go with the strong starting track Blank Test. The sound of a tape reel playing in the background sets up the song as Aaron Crane's familiar drum beats come into play, along with guitar and vocals. The song sets us up for what appears to be quite a ride. Upon listening to the CD with a nicer pair of headphones, I found I appreciated the mixing significantly more than you would if just casually listening to the disc in the car, or at a party. This is a CD that you need to sit down and take in, because there is a lot to take in. Another factor I noticed was Smothered in Hugs' ability to retain the feeling of live energy and emotion on the recordings, which isn't a thing that is easily pulled off. As with any good disc, you can listen to the songs multiple times and find new things, whether it is the distorted bass, or the rhythm guitar hitting notes in staccato, which was the case when I listened to Blank Test while writing this review.As the CD continues, it has the strong crowd favorite songs, but what captured my attention the most was some of the slower songs, such as Chest Protection, and Die Trying. The composition and emotional feel of the song is powerful, and it sucks you in to their world. Die Trying is a good example of this. The way the acoustic and electric guitar entangle within each other is quite astounding, and with Ryan's haunting vocals floating above the mix. The song consistently builds, encompassing you with sounds, all working together in haunting harmony. This track stood out to me especially, and faintly reminded me of Sam Roberts' slower tracks on the album, Chemical City. Speaking of comparisons, in Visa Problems, Ryan Crane's scream is reminiscent of Joe Strummer, best known for his work as the lead singer in The Clash, it is unknown to me if this is intentional or not, but if it is, it's a brilliant and accurate homage.

The album is an excellent disc, with high production qualities, and every song having the right to be listened to. Smothered has proved time and time again live they are something worth seeing, and with this CD, they prove
they are worth buying and listening to time and time again. From start to end, this is must have for all fans of indie music, and local music for that matter. Smothered in Hugs is a band to keep your eye on, because you don't know what they are going to do next. This CD is a definite buy.

Much More Than Alouette: La Musique Francophone

2008-10-28T16:52:00.000-07:00

By Daniel NOYE

Often overlooked and even ridiculed by many, it seems as though all in search of a new sound have missed what is hiding behind the language barrier in Atlantic Canada: Francophone music. Versatile, this genre comes in all shapes and styles from punk (Notably, eXterio), to rock (Grand Dérangement), Rap (Zubda), and the list goes on. Under the assumption that this is your first encounter with Francophone music, I'd like to take a close look at Luc Tardif's 2003 ECMA Nominated release Kilogrammes, Reason, Sexe, Taekwondo & Amour.
A native of Sept-Îles, Quebec, Tardif cites his numerous voyages (to England, Morocco, Russia, Iceland, Senegal, Tunisia, the Czech Republic and all over North America) and the small town of Point de l'Église, Nova Scotia (where he has spent the better part of the last ten years teaching at l'Université Sainte-Anne) as major influences on his style of Indie-torched folk-pop. Throughout the album's twelve tracks, Luc expresses himself self-depreciatively yet in a serious tone through his emotionally-driven vocal melodies and captivating guitar work.

The album’s opening track, Leur Dieu, shows one of the many directions Luc’s music can venture; an upbeat marriage of funk and country paired with a soothing vocal line. He carries this sentiment through the album’s next two tracks, Aujourd’hui and Vieux Singe, before Tardif takes an opposite tone on Un, an acoustically driven ballad. From this point on you must brace yourself for the emotional pendulum. The album climaxes during Le Troisième Quinze, an irresistible down-to-earth piece seeing Luc and his guitar accompanied by strings.

Recorded locally in Comeauville, Nova Scotia (minutes from Point de l'Église), it was finished between 2002 and 2003. Appearing on the album are guests Briand Melanson, Armand Dionne, Jean-Pascal Comeau, Lana Tomlin, Steve Caron, Louis Del Vecchio, Maxime Bigras and Daniel Heïkalo. It was released on Plages Records.

With the maturity and musicianship demonstrated by Tardif, it’s difficult to believe that Kilogrammes, Reason, Sexe, Taekwondo & Amour is a debut album. Conversely and at the same time, it thrills his closely-knit fan base knowing that his sophomore release will be available in early 2009. Surely it will be as embellished with top notch guest musicians as was his debut. In synopsis, Luc Tardif is a fresh face in the Francophone music scene with a style that’s easy for anyone to enjoy, Anglo- and Francophone alike.

Head over to www.luctardif.ca or www.myspace.com/luctardif to hear some of Luc's work.

A Night Out With a Good Book

2008-10-28T16:50:00.000-07:00

Fantasy Guru Guy Gavriel Kay Does Reading at UPEI

By Katelyn DYKERMAN (The Semantic Volume 1, Issue 2)

I’ve always been a bit skeptical about readings. I’ve pictured lattes, berets, Birkenstocks and menthol cigarettes. But through my experiences last year, which began with spunky Bernice Morgan reading from her latest novel Cloud of Bone, and then included; my roommate and I slipping across Queen Street in the midst of a snow storm in order to see Michael Winter read from The Architects Are Here; laughing when a poor highschool student was berated by Barbara Gowdy for nodding off during her reading from Helpless; and then the awe that resulted from seeing Lawrence Hill read twice, I have come to discover that readings are not only for the literature nerds, or the elitist art students, but for anyone that wants to have an evening out that will not only introduce them to a new writer they might enjoy, but to help them fall in love again (or for the first time) with books.

This year’s reading series began with Guy Gavriel Kay, a Canadian writer famed for his first trilogy The Fionavar Tapestry. His latest book, Ysabel, is set in Provence and explores the beauty and resulting coveting of that area by multiple groups through Kay’s exquisite use of language. Kay’s reading of Ysabel, and from his book of poetry Beyond This Dark House, was much different from the twenty or thirty minute readings I attended the previous year. Kay stood at the podium with brilliant charisma, reading poems from his book, flashing knowing glaces, and sly smiles at the audience with the skill of Sir Ian McKellen. The reading lasted for over an hour. I was never bored, lost or confused. I followed him through his phrases and images like a child would a parent along a forest path. But the best parts were when he spoke between and after each reading. He joked about the false pretense of inspiration (stating that “inspiration is the greatest excuse for not writing”), the unnecessary fear of writer’s block and the fate-like events that led to each of his books. Again, I was excited to be a reader. Readings do not just introduce you to that particular writer’s book, they get you excited about reading in general. So, be sure to attend the remainder of this year’s Winter’s Tales Reading Series hosted by the UPEI English department.

Mardeen/Boxer at the Wave

2008-10-28T16:47:00.000-07:00

Collagen Rock/Independent

Vice President Activities Shawn Younis did it again, Wave as big as Tsunami (and significantly less devastating)

By Kate McKENNA (The Semantic, Volume 1, Issue 2)

Mardeen are pretty good. That’s the most intelligent thing there is to be said about this Cape Breton band. I’m not intentionally being scathing, there’s just nothing overtly exciting about this group. I first encountered them a couple years ago, living in Ottawa. Two Hours Traffic played a local dive, and Mardeen were opening. Then, I remember being repulsed - as I recall, they were a lot more jam-oriented then, and didn’t seem to have a fraction of the talent of the band they were opening for. I left halfway through the set to walk through the pouring rain and buy a soda. That said, I’m pleased to report that they’ve gotten better. If they continue to improve at the rate they have since early 2006, it would not be surprisingly if they opened for The Shins or some other equivalent in five years. Recently signed to fledgling Collagen Records, they are in the company of Two Hours Traffic, Smothered in Hugs, and The Danks.
Reminiscent of Built to Spill or Teenage Fanclub, they encapsulate the post-Sloan/Thrush Hermit sound for which Atlantic Canada is becoming known. This is my primary criticism with Mardeen; they sound contrived. But to focus on the positive, they are a hook-laden pop band, that is occasionally reminescent of early day Weezer harmonizing - ‘A Lot To Be Loved’ could have been a Pinkerton outtake.
Their live show is almost identical to their recorded work. They were fun, they were catchy - were I to grade them, I’d give them maybe a B. Not bad. Okay. Maybe a B+ because one of the band members had a killer mustache, and it looked like they collaborated on their outfits (all plaid - nice!).
Clearly, everyone in the Wave on the 19th would disagree with me. Saying so would be an understatement actually, all fifty-to-one hundred people there seemed to have the time of their respective lives.

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

2008-10-28T16:44:00.000-07:00

by Kate McKENNA (The Semantic, Volume 1, Issue 4)

Audiences everywhere are charmed by indie kid sweethearts in comedy Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist. Catered to late teens - early 20-somethings with a refreshing lack of irony, director Peter Sollett keeps audiences enthralled with just the speculation of whether or not Nick and Norah will, in fact, hook up. Beware: there’s a spoiler near the bottom.
Michael Cera (Juno, Arrested Development) and Kat Dennings (Charlie Bartlett) play our protagonists that have little in common barring musical taste. Screenplay adapted from a book by the same name (penned by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan, both of whom have cameos in the film), both Cera and Dennings meet at a show looking for a secret (a la White Stripes) show featuring their mutual favourite band, Where’s Fluffy?. Hilarity ensues - Norah claims Nick as her one-night-only boyfriend to escape ridicule from classmate Tris, only to find out that Nick is Tris’ mournful ex. Norah’s drunken friend provides comic relief for Judd Apatow fans, with several gross-out moments that are not central to the plot, but amusing nevertheless.
Dennings and Cera do a good, authentic job in their roles. And why not? Both are used to being typecast as b-side couples (though admittedly, Dennings not so much as Cera). Acting is strong from both leads; it’s nice to see Cera in a role where he gets more lines (even if the lines are, in content, the same as they have been in every role he’s played)
Naturally, the playlist in this film is fabulous. The National, Band of Horses, Shout Out Louds, Bishop Allen, We are Scientists all have token songs in the film. I predict this movie will have a Garden State-esque following, and that all bands in this film with have a Shins-esque career revival, and good on all of them (if annoying for indie-rock purists who watch this film and cringe)
My only criticism is the inaccurate portrayal of the female orgasm. Less than fifteen seconds to achieve? Yeah right.

Michael Moore is Fucking Awesome

2008-10-28T16:43:00.001-07:00

by Casey DORRELL (The Semantic, Volume 1 Issue 4)

Michael Moore is fucking awesome. Michael Moore makes politics cool for the kids. Michael Moore stands up to the corrupt media. Michael Moore is our generation's Bob Dylan. Michael Moore is the man who almost single-handedly won the last American presidential election for the Democrats. Michael Moore understands.

How do I know this? I know, because Michael Moore and his friends told me. And he can tell you too. For free. All you have to do is go online and download or watch his latest movie, Slacker Uprising, available freely from Moore himself. Therein you will discover the truth behind the last American election. This truth is that Moore, by speaking directly to the youth vote or “slackers” as he very topically calls them, helped compel a larger number of young voters to come out in 2004 than ever before. Sadly, because of big media bias, corporate goons, and those slackers' parents who just didn't understand (Sing it, Will), his attempt to trim the White House Bush failed.
What he neglects to discuss in the hour and a half long parade of self-celebration, Moore-praising cameo appearances, and political sing-a-longs, is the implication of that failure. We are, however, treated to a barrage of musical performances, apparently leaving him no time to place anything in context. The entire movie is simply this: Moore traveling through the US, with a cohort of celebrities in tow, telling audiences of university students they really ought to vote. Interspersed are clips of him mocking the media, people telling him he's pretty great, and a shallow plotline about a few businessmen who try to stop him from speaking through bribery.

It's lacking even the overt dramatization that he's employed with increasing skill in each successive movie he's filmed. While that may have been what ruined some of his movies for thinking people, it's also what made some of his movies pretty great. This movie is the documentary equivalent of a late-night infomercial. And Michael Moore is what's offered for sale.

Yet, the movie is free. So, even if the movie is tired, the method of its release is noteworthy, right? After all, as Moore states on the movie's website, “It is the first time ever that a major feature-length film is debuting as a free download on the internet -- legally.” He forgets to mention that he already premiered another version of this film a year prior entitled, “Captain Mike Across America,” which, at the very least, is a more accurate title for the vanity project. The movie was largely panned upon its Toronto Film Festival Debut. But I'm sure its critical failure and its probable impending commercial failure had nothing to do with the edit and subsequent repackaging as a “gift to his fans”.

Moore anticipated some negative reaction to his rebranded film and preemptively suggests that people who aren't fans of him won't like the movie. This is fair. The movie is about how great he is, and if you don't think he's great, you're probably not going to enjoy it. But then he adds, “[The movie has] way too many tens of thousands of people liking what I'm saying. If you're a McCain fan, this film should probably be rated X.” If you're not with him, you're against him. So, what will it be, are you a Palin-lovin' Joe-six-pack kind of person, or a thinking Moore fan? It doesn't sound any better coming from the left than it does coming from the right.

If you still want to watch some new Moore, rent one of his earlier movies you may have missed like Roger and Me or The Big One. Sure, it'll cost more than watching Slacker Uprising but it's still a far better deal.

What Craig St. Jean is Eating

2008-10-28T16:36:00.000-07:00

by Craig St. Jean (The Semantic, Volume 1, Issue 4)

I fancy myself something of a cheeseburger afficianado. Or, more largely, a low-culture connoisseur. In any case, years of refusing to expand my dietary palette resulted in me consuming a shit-ton of burgers which, even though I've grown to enjoy a much wider array of foods in recent times, clearly makes me qualified to tell you what's a good burger and what's not. So, in the interest of both imparting my wisdom on you hungry readers and expanding the spectrum of the Semantic's review section, I bring you the first (but hopefully not the only) installment of WHAT CRAIG ST. JEAN IS EATING.
So, to kick things off with a bang, I want to tell you about THE BEST BURGER I'VE EVER EATEN. This culinary marvel comes courtesy of Black and White Convenience, located downtown on the corner of Hillsborough and King. Y'know, it's one of those lunch counter places. I'm still impressed by the breadth of their menu, but when I shuffle up those stairs, there's only one thing on my mind. Like any lunch counter burger joint should, they offer the choice of a quarter-pounder or a half-pounder, but as any anyone who got excited by the sight of this article well knows, there's only one REAL choice.
So what makes Black and White's half-pounder the best burger ever? Let's start with the beef. For the sake of comparison, think about the shittiest burger you've ever had. What made it suck? I'll bet it had something to do with overcooked, dense beef. You don't get that at Black and White. What you get is that deliciously loose texture that only comes from the freshest ground beef. If you put the patty on your palm and balled your first, it'd crumble no problem. That's a good thing. I had a grillburger from Dairy Queen this summer that was a consummate chunk of coal. You'd need a hammer before that thing would crumble. The Black and White beef practically melts in your mouth.
But, as life changing as it may be, beef alone does not the best burger make. So what else puts it over the top? The bun. The bun is superb. It's not that it just holds its own against the beef's torrent of succulent grease--no. The bun itself is worthy of an entire column, but I've only got so many words to work with. Just know that this bun is THE BEST bun, and while I'm sure you can buy them from any grocer, it's the selection that counts. Other burger places don't make the same selection. Thus, other burger places fail.
I've mentioned the staples. You can't have a burger without beef and a bun. The Black and White half pounder wins on those merits alone. They know that if you get the basics right, you're good to go. A car with a shitty engine and leather seats is still going to make for a less than desirable vehicle. Same goes for burgers.

Hedberg's “Do You Believe in Gosh” is Dead Funny

2008-10-28T11:36:00.000-07:00

Hedberg's “Do You Believe in Gosh” is Dead Funny

by Casey DORRELL

Release Date: September 9th, 2008
Label: Comedy Central Records
Related: Mitch Hedberg - Strategic Grill Locations; Steven Wright - I Have a Pony

“Trust me, it's hilarious. Go into my head, then come back out and tell me I'm wrong,” challenges comedian Mitch Hedberg after a failed joke. And there are a lot of failed jokes on his posthumous release of stand-up comedy, which came out on September 9th. Thankfully, there just as many funny one-liners, and those jokes that do fall flat are saved by self-deprecating asides.

To be fair, the material, released over three years after Hedberg's fatal heroine overdose, was never intended for wider public consumption. It was a test-run of new material which he planned on perfecting and then recording in a more polished form in October. Because of his sudden death, that recording never happened. Instead we have, “Do You Believe in Gosh?” a short comedy album comprised of a handful of performances at a club in Ontario, California, released with the blessing of his partner, Lynn Shawcroft, on Comedy Central Records. (Yes, California has their own Ontario apparently so named by expats sick of the Ontario weather and elitism).

For those unfamiliar with the comedy work of Mitch Hedberg, he is aptly described by Comedy Central Record Rep, Jack Vaughn, as “one of the most famous comedians who's not really well known in the public sphere”. Relying on a comedy style that is sometimes described as abstract observational humour, his routines are a collection of seemingly random one-liners (“I'm sick of soup of the day, it's time we make a decision”), tangents (the new album opens with him ruminating on whether he should wait for everyone in the bathroom before starting) and surreal observations (“I like when they say shampoo is volumizing, cause my hair, it's fucking quiet”). All of this delivered with spacey mumbling, often while staring at the floor.

Cadence Weapon is Lethal

2008-10-28T10:10:00.000-07:00

Review by Kate McKENNA (The Semantic, Vol 1, Issue 5)
October 17th, 2008, Cadence Weapon with DJ Cosmo

I should not review a hip hop/rap event. I shouldn’t.
I consider myself a bit of a music person, but I don’t have a clue about what makes a good rap artist and the only two rap CDs that adorn my collection are Wu Tang Clan’s Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 Chambers and Eminem’s The Marshall Mathers LP. I have no idea how the latter came to grace my collection.

That said, I have no qualms whatsoever in saying that Cadence Weapon was my favourite Wave event to date. And hell, I was sober. Though unsurprising that I didn’t know many of Cadence Weapon’s songs, it was kind of surprising to me that a large chunk of the audience did. And in case you are as ignorant about rap music as I am, there are a lot of words to memorize in rap songs.

Cadence Weapon is the stage name of Rollie Pemberton. An Alberta native, he has achieved critical success. He independently released the underground mix tape Cadence Weapon is the Black Hand in 2005, and his first full-length debut Breaking Kayfabe later that year. Scoring excellent reviews, Cadence has toured extensively to support the disc, including concerts across Canada and three shows in Austin, Texas at the 2006 South by Southwest festival. In addition to his own recordings, Cadence Weapon has also remixed tracks for Lady Sovereign and Ciara, and has written hiphop reviews for Stylus and Pitchfork.

Earlier this year, Cadence released his second LP, Afterparty Babies on Anti/Epitaph.

Cadence’s lyrics are unbelievable. His dominating stage presence is impressive given his lack of band, and his rogue style keeps things fresh and not contrived. Everyone at The Wave, including the business pub crawl, were completely into it.

Still, even more exciting than Cadence Weapon was third year psych/history student Zac Thompson. If academics fail him, he could make it as a professional dancer. Do UPEI proud, Zac!

UPEI Wave Press Photo/Photo by Sean Berrigan

In Defense of Bodice Rippers: Review of Erotic Novel Shanna by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

2008-10-28T10:06:00.000-07:00

Review by Amanda Bulman (The Semantic, Vol 1, Issue 5)

When my close friend Darrah excitedly handed me an ancient looking pirate themed erotic novel and announced loudly that it would “change my life”-I was skeptical. Not that I doubted Darrah’s judgment, it is just that the thought of reading six hundred pages of eroticism was a bit of nightmare for me. My doubts stemmed from three very different reasons. 1) I’m a feminist and as such did not think I could stomach six hundred pages of weak willed women submitting to aggressive brawny men like kittens.2) I’m a book snob and my shelves are stocked with the classics interspersed with post modern fiction (think Dave Eggers) and I seriously did not believe that Shanna would have the kinds of character development, and themes that I need. Finally, reason number three - I had never dabbled in eroticism before and had always figured that if I ever did it would be cowboy themed. Emilio Estevez’s washboard abs in Young Guns 2 had always done a lot more for me than Jonny Depp’s bleeding gums in Pirates of the Caribbean.

After Darrah left my apartment, I picked up Shanna and hesitantly started reading. I skipped school the next day to finish it and was so gripped by the story that I stopped only for food and bathroom breaks. Shanna is more than life changing-it is a sensational piece of literature that will make even the most hardcore feminist, Bleak house loving, lasso-lusting book snob more than thrilled. I judged Shanna by its highly erotic cover, but in fact the story line and sexual scenes are more fluid in their understanding of women’s issues and are just plain more enjoyable than everything I’ve ever read.

The story line is non-traditional for an erotic novel. Okay sure, I admit that the pirates, parrots and men wearing puffy shirts is the norm for many books in this genre, but Shanna‘s plot is original and groundbreaking. The story revolves around a woman forced by her father to choose a husband with an aristocratic name, so the family can have both wealth and a title. The protagonist chooses a man named Rourke who is in prison for murder. Her reasoning is that he will be executed for his crime and she will get to continue living life freely as a widow with a title. He’s pardoned and she beds him again and again, not because she’s forced too, or because she’s trying to manipulate him, but because she wants to. The story has a happy ending that I won’t spoil. The conclusion is the most impressive part of the novel because “tough” or “bad girl” types of women who explore sexuality in roles other than the stereotypical gendered assumptions that most forms of pop culture make, usually end up dead or wounded (think Jen in Dawson’s Creek, Faith in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any sexual women in Margeret Atwood’s novels). Shanna gives its “bad girl” a happy ending.

More importantly, there are at least five really hot sex scenes and in each Shanna’s sexuality is represented differently. In one scene she is the meek kitten I so dreaded reading. In the others she plays various roles. She is a dominant seductress that bends the male character of Rourke to her will, she is an animal, and an equal partner in a relationship based on respect. Sure some feminists may argue that Shanna is still a heteronormative novel, and still only explores sexuality through the context of a confined male and female relationship, but I would argue that Shanna explores sex in ways outside of the narrow and traditional romantic novel narrative. Anyway outside of the whole feminist issue-the sex scenes are just indescribably excellent. There are no awkward turns of phrase, only delicious page turning readable porn on the page.

If you remember, my third reason for avoiding pirate themed erotiscm was based on a love for all things cowboy. It turns out that both Shanna and her lover Rourke are horse people and there are countless scenes in which they tame wild colts. Awesome. Read Shanna. This novel is the only example that I can think of where a highly sexual cowgirl pirate woman gets a happy ending. As Darrah eloquently put it “It’s going to blow your mind.”

Things The GrandChildren Should Know (By Mark Oliver Everett)

2008-10-28T10:03:00.000-07:00

Review by Casey Dorrell (The Semantic, Vol 1. Issue 5)

1. How to swim; they might have a lot of saltwater on their hands;

2. How to ride a horse; they might not have anything to run a car on;

3. How to breed waterhorses.

Everett, the author of the Things the Grandchildren Should Know, does not offer this sage advice. In fact, after reading the entire work, I was unable to uncover any advice for grandchildren. This was, perhaps, an attempt by Everett to skirt the troubling issue that everyone is a grandchild and without a possessive qualifier such as “my” or “your” the advice would need to address all save for freaky lab babies and robots. Everett has declined comment on these allegations. Of course, this may be as result of not being contacted by myself, but he hasn't confirmed this either.

What's offered instead in Things the Grandchildren Should Know is an autobiography written by Everett, better known as E, better still known as the essentially one-man band, Eels, better finally known as the band in those Shrek movies and O.C. mixes. Eels, despite achieving considerable critical and commercial success, have fostered a cult following that stops just short of mainstream recognition. Known for a melancholy style of music, Eels' magnum opus is their 1998 album, “Electro-Shock Blues,” a conceptual album about life in the face of death written by Everett after the suicide of his older sister and impending death of his mother from incurable cancer.

Not that Everett is a tragic figure like his late friend, Elliott Smith. He is as much known for his eccentricity and irreverence as for his sad life. This is the artist whose dog has more myspace friends than you and who, when asked to give a quote for the jacket of Cobain's posthumously released diaries, responded, “Please don't do this to me after I kill myself”. It's the personal nature of Everett's work, and the personal tragedy therein implied, combined with his eclectic spirit that makes the autobiography intriguing. That, and a natural curiosity as to whether brilliance in song lyricism can translate to the same in longer written works.

The short answer is no. Although Everett has been described as the “Vonnegut of the rock world,” Vonnegut remains the Vonnegut of the literary world. Everett adopts a simple, easy to read writing style that may not hold its own against the likes of, say, Bertrand Russell, but it easily stands up to most rock biographies. The writing is adequate, not spectacular, but it's enough to get the story across. And it's a poignant, if bizarre story. In short, Everett has lived a life surrounded by death and unstable girlfriends.

Seriously, a ridiculous number of people around Everett have met their end - his sister, mother, father, landlady, roadie, elderly friend, cousin, the list goes on. He's like Jessica Fletcher (a Murder She Wrote reference, kids), eventually people are going to start wondering why everyone around Everett dies. And the girlfriend issue, it isn't sexism; it's just that Everett makes romantic decisions that would seem a little questionable to most of us. Unable to pick up in class or at parties, then why not give a try at mental health facility operating in a German Castle run by a doctor who moonlights as a salad factory operator. Better yet, why not marry the first girl you meet there. (They are now divorced).

Taken simply as a narrative, it's a compelling story that won't demand a lot of time to read. Still, it suffers toward the end, where Everett jumps back and forth in tense and adopts an “aw shucks, I guess everything is just swell after all” attitude. This probably won't be enough to tip the balance in favour of not reading the autobiography. In fact, if you aren't a person prone to exceptional bitterness like myself, you'll probably enjoy its life-affirming theme. But the optimism remains troubling for fans, as it might lead us to an Eels album devoid of angst. Since this is impossible, we can only assume someone close to Everett is about to die. I'd like to stress to whoever is in charge of these things, I do not know the guy. I've never even seen him live, I swear.