Introducing Gangstagrass

I've got a treat for anyone with true musical taste. I heard about the FX show Justified last year, and was able to catch up on it when its first season came out on DVD a few months ago. It's now one of my personal faves, and I got amazingly lucky when FX was added to my cable package in February at no additional charge just before the start of Season 2. The show is good enough that I could blog about it, but it's actually the theme song and the band who sings it that I want to give some Amens to. The band is Gangstagrass, a group of musicians that combine authentic bluegrass (which is a natural fit with the show's Kentucky setting), and... wait for it... rap (!) into a new genre. It sounds like a potential disaster, but I dig it. This particular video is the full-length version of the song, with clips from the show interspersed. Elmore Leonard, the fiction writer who wrote the short story on which Justified is based, (and who is now 85 years old), says it best: "Rench (the vocalist and producer) and his friends have done nothing short of creating a new form of music. Gangstagrass takes two types of music that are opposites and mixes them together brilliantly in a way that is natural and enjoyable". I've heard several of their songs and have to tip my hat to people who are willing to think waaaaay outside the box. I hope you enjoy.

Ode to the B movies

Time got away from me again. I was pretty sick for most of last week. This post is not going to be a masterpiece, but it's an entry I've been meaning to write for a while. I've run across a lot of B movies in the past few weeks, and not only that, but read a book by Bruce Campbell, the modern-day king of B movies, and saw a couple of movies about B movies and the people who love them. It's given me a new appreciation for not only the craft, but the people involved in bringing us their low-budget, sometimes trashy, but often brilliant and always resourceful visions.


A couple of months ago, I got a documentary from my Netflix called Best Worst Movie, about the cult following of the infamous Troll 2, culminating in a reunion almost 20 years later, and reflections from those associated with it. The real-life characters who were involved in that movie are as bizarre as those in any scripted film, and I had a ton of fun with it. The Italian director to this day clings to the delusion that he made a good film, and the actors today lead lives ranging from a pretty functional and well-loved dentist in Alabama to an old man who feels he's wasted his life to a couple of others with clear mental health issues who almost seem too weird to be real. If you are interested in a fairly lighthearted documentary about a subject that has no real importance, I'd put Best Worst Movie in the ole queue.



A few weeks later, I saw Bubba Ho-Tep on cable, featuring Bruce Campbell from Evil Dead and Army of Darkness (also played Brisco County Jr. and several small parts in more mainstream movies, for those of you who are too highbrow for Sam Raimi's early days), and loved its strange storyline of an aging Elvis and an old black man who claims to be JFK facing off against an ancient Egyptian mummy who is terrorizing their nursing home. I can't really add a whole lot to that summary. It's every bit as strange as it sounds, but the outhouse humor and performances hit me perfectly. I checked out Campbell's best-selling autobiography, If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor, a few weeks ago, and it was just as entertaining.



Last but not least, Ed Wood. Yes, that is Johnny Depp in drag, missing his front teeth. This is one of Depp's best performances, in the least-seen but by far the best of his collaborations with Tim Burton. Wood was the creator of Plan 9 From Outer Space, Glen or Glenda, and a host of others that have gotten the Mystery Science Theater 3000 treatment. But his own story is even more outrageous, and I'd consider Ed Wood something of a hidden gem.

At any rate, that's largely what's been on my mind. Likely at some point I'll have the energy to say something important, but I don't much want to burn energy on that right now. I hope my readers are all well. Once again, toodles.

"My Humps" by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir

Well, not quite. But still a pretty amusing example of seemingly incongruous performances. I hope you enjoy it enough to hold you until I have something to actually say again. Peace out.

You Can't Go Home Again

Today has given me some unusual nostalgia that came from a strange place. Jerry Sloan, the Utah Jazz's gruff longtime coach, very suddenly and unexpectedly resigned, partway through his 23rd season with the team. I am very much a sports fan, but am usually able to roll with whatever happens and not internalize disappointments and triumphs and magnify them to an unhealthy extent the way I see with the more fanatical fans out there. But today's news got me a little misty-eyed. In addition to being an outstanding coach and an amazingly low-ego person, and all the usual things that would make a fan feel sad for such a loss, Coach Sloan was the last remaining link to a piece of my childhood and adolescence that feels like it's now gone forever. Larry Miller died two years ago, John Stockton and Karl Malone are enshrined in the Hall of Fame and pushing 50, the Delta Center was renamed, and even Hot Rod Hundley is gone. I don't think many non-Utahns or casual fans across the country can understand how much the Jazz have meant to the entire state, or fully appreciate the combination of people coming together at the right time that made the Stockton/Malone years so memorable. It's one of the most compelling true-life sports stories ever, one that would make a fantastic movie. I consider it a Cinderella story, even without the NBA Championship. Not many fan bases can say that.

Perhaps the reason I'm so susceptible to such sentimentality is that over the past several years, I've had a twinge of pain at the realization that my hometown of Brigham City resembles the town I grew up in less and less. I had a complex relationship with Brigham. Unlike my brother Vance, who has more or less known since he was in junior high that he would live and die there, I never insisted on being a lifer. In fact, at some point, I realized that Brigham was a small pond and didn't have much to offer as I made my way in the world. But in addition to the normal growth and change in the businesses that came and went, and the faces that moved away, every school I went to for thirteen years is either torn down or no longer recognizable to me. Central Elementary was razed probably a decade ago, and making things even weirder, is the site of the soon-to-be Brigham City Temple. My junior high has undergone a major facelift, and I found out recently that its gym, which is straight out of the 1950s and I absolutely love for some reason, will be demolished soon. Box Elder High School has undergone such an extreme makeover that when I wandered over there last year to check it out, my jaw hit the floor. It was like an old janitor friend suddenly turned into an uppity, high-maintenance woman. I have no claim on the community, and it's unlikely I'll ever live there again, and it's not as if I was such a stud in high school that those were anything even close to glory days, but I can't help being sad, and kinda pissed at the school board who found it so necessary to make Box Elder look like Bel Air. The entire thing looks to me like a colossal Super Sweet Sixteen party, a misappropriation of public money during really lean times. The more I think about it, the more I hate the people who did this. It's like when Meg Ryan got the botox treatment. Meg, you used to be so cute. Now you look like a platypus. And my school looks like a wannabe Hollywood sexpot.

I should try to wrap up here, but I don't know if there is a main point to tie this all together. I know change is inevitable, and life goes on. And really, even if the landmarks had remained the same, you can't go home again. It just seems true on days like this that nothing gold can stay. To Coach Sloan, happy trails. I believe you're a good man, and hope that if my kids ever play basketball, they get a coach like you. To Brigham City, I will continue to smile and wave when I see you during visits to the fam, but will always have a place in my heart for the old you. And to the people who created that monstrosity on 6th West, I wish you pubic lice, incontinence, and an eternity of Rob Schneider movies.

Meet Paul

It's been a couple months, but I've decided to try to get back blogging. From here on out, come hell or high water, I'll be doing one at least every Monday, with other posts coming sporadically as I see fit. On this first one, I'm afraid I'm just gonna mail it in, but hopefully you'll find it worthwhile. This is a trailer for Paul, coming this March from my heroes Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, who brought us Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, two absurdly funny British imports that have gotten these guys a major following in the U.S. This might be my own most anticipated movie of the year, along with Cowboys & Aliens. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy, and I hope I still have readers. Ciao.

I Wish the Justice System Worked Like This!

Happy Thanksgiving week, everybody!  Rather than bore you with an overly serious, sickly sweet message, I'm going to give appreciation to one of the things I'm most thankful for: the poe-lice, by going back in time to 1990, when cops, judges, and criminals were less afraid to express themselves.  The average John Q. Public thinks police work is all about crimefighting and tasings, but they forget about the musical side.  Cop Rock was canceled after only 11 episodes, and voted by TV Guide in 2002 as the 8th worst show of all time, but it's bequeathed memories that you will never forget once you've seen it.  I actually remember this show when it debuted (and had its finale) in my sixth grade year.  With the success of Glee 20 years later, we can make the argument that Cop Rock was a show before its time and was actually a terrific idea all along.  If that rationale doesn't convince you, here are a few of my favorite songs:

Rest assured, there is plenty more where that came from.  You were too good to stay with us for long, Cop Rock.  God rest you and keep you safe and warm.  Gobble gobble.

Reflections on the Past Decade

This is how I felt a couple of days ago when I passed my 10-year mark of returning from the mission. I know, it's really dramatic, and I'm still fairly young, but a decade is a significant fraction of one's life, no matter how old you get. I'm not quite ready to throw caution to the wind yet, but I can at least identify with the old bat above. At 100, or even once you hit your eighties, who cares? I'm sure I'll at least eat all the bacon I want, if not break out the hard liquor.

But back to the subject at hand. I've been back in the States for a decade. I'm not quite sure what to make of that. Every October 25 stands out as another anniversary in my life that I always take notice of, maybe because it's exactly two months after my birthday. I don't know if that's normal. But this year I'm especially reflective. I've done great for myself in the family department, and own a growing business in an industry I love. But all the same, I feel the need to check myself. I kind of feel like 21-year-old Aaron who was ready to conquer the world has morphed into a cynic with ongoing hot and cold faith issues. I'd like to get some of that youthful vigor and idealism back. I remember the drive and enthusiasm I had for the first two or three years home, but I don't know how to recapture it. I feel like I've become too well acquainted with the world and there's no way of really ever getting back to my innocence, because I've seen too much. And I know the goal in life is to grow and learn, even the hard lessons, but sometimes I wonder how some people are able to be so positive. I used to think overly happy people were obnoxious, but I've come to admire people who do that in the face of the same things I encounter in my own life.

Anyway, that's enough of that. I actually am largely happy with life. I have some really great things going for me. I just wanted to get some of that out. No one commented on my previous post, so I punished you by not writing for a month. But also, no one complained that I was gone, so if you're reading, go flog yourself a few times. Best of everything to you until next time.