EDU: Cookies and Cream Cupcakes

Since Mr. LollipopsAndCrisps is getting down with his soup self, I decided that I would make a weekly food item and submit a "guest blog" to go along with his soup post.  I'm not into the savory as much as the sweet and I've been ripping a daily cupcake recipe off of my 365 Cupcakes daily calendar and storing the ones I like.  I've never had a reason to make the recipes before so this is the perfect excuse.  I asked Mr. LAC himself which recipe he'd like to see first and the Cookies and Cream Cupcakes recipe was his choice.

What you'll need for the cupcakes:

1 cup sweet butter, softened
1 cup sugar
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
4 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
10 crushed cream-filled chocolate cookies


*I halved the recipe and it made 11 cupcakes.


This recipe is super easy.  Preheat the oven to 350F.  Save paper by using silicone cupcake cups and place them in a cupcake pan (or use paper, I suppose).  Then, simply combine all of the ingredients except the cookies in a large bowl and beat them with an electric mixer until smooth.

Stir in the cookies.  I used a potato masher to crush the cookies in a bowl, making sure they were very finely crushed.

Spoon the batter into the cups and bake them for 20 minutes.  Cool them on a wire rack.

What you'll need for the frosting:

3 cups confectioners sugar, sifted
1 cup sweet butter, softened
Pinch of salt
10 chopped cream-filled chocolate cookies

I have no idea why the sugar has to be sifted but I did it anyway.  Beat the softened butter, sugar, and salt with an electric mixer until smooth.  I decided to pour in a little whole milk to make the frosting smoother, about two tablespoons.  I think the frosting tastes a lot like butter, it's not my favorite recipe.  Frost the cupcakes.  Chop the cookies up a lot coarser than before and dunk the frosted cupcakes into the cookies to coat them.

Beautiful!

EDITORS NOTE: These were delicious. My only complaint is that she didn't make the whole recipe, so there were 30 Oreos left tantalizing me on the living room table. The frosting was perfectly sweet and smooth, and there were several yummy chunks of Oreo to behold. At first I thought it was just a normal cupcake with Oreos sprinkled on top, oh nononono. Oreos abound. I can get used to a weekly dessert guest blog :).

Miracle Of The Sea

After 2 days adrift at sea, Americans have a stunning rescue to rejoice in. In a situation of unfathomable inconvenience, the 4500 aboard Carnval's Splendor of the Seas dug deep, much like Aron Ralston did in his predicament and kept hope alive in the face of cold food and "smelly toilets". I don't think it's presumptuous to assume that if this happened a year or two ago, Danny Boyle would have scrapped 127 Hours to pay homage to this triumph of the human spirit instead.

If you've been on a cruise before, you will likely appreciate the fortitude of those aboard the Splendor, and if you haven't, don't judge lest ye be judged. Cruise ships are terribly bothersome to begin with (a fact best documented by the late David Foster Wallace in "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again"), with meager entertainment and mediocre table service. In fact, on more than one occasion I could barely tell what type of animal the my hotel-room towels were contorted into. The ice in your drinks melt quickly poolside and it took entirely too many snaps of my fingers to get the attention of a staff member to top me off. And don't even get me STARTED on the food. I wouldn't serve their filet mignon to my dog, and I needed a sledgehammer to crack the creme brulee. So when I heard that the poor passengers aboard the Splendor were enduring Deli Meat and DRY CEREAL, I had half a mind to mail 4500 care-packages to the middle of Pacific. Mercifully, the US Navy air-dropped Spam and Pop-tarts before cannibalism took hold.

I've heard that Carnival Cruise Lines are completely reimbursing everyone and offering them a voucher for a free cruise, but who is going to be there for them when this is all forgotten? Will Carnival be paying their therapy? Their medical bills? Doubtful. Take a look at these two gentlemen. They are going to need some serious psychotherapy to erase these nightmares from their unconscious. Americans get a bad rap for being spoiled wissies, but when challenged with a situation this unbearable, real Americans dust themselves off and ask for seconds. Chilean miners, eat your heart out.

Nice to Tweet You

I joined Twitter yesterday. My handle is inconsequential. Some may see this as an acknowledgement of its potential as a social network, a tad hypocritical considering my Facebook rant of a few months ago, others might see it as the start of a long, steady spiral that ends in me drinking the dregs of discarded Four Loko cans under the Alewife Bridge. Well, you're all wrong.

I still think having an active Twitter account is probably one of the most ego-maniacal things a person can do. It reeks of self-importance and desperation, like obnoxious Youtube comments that try to direct viewers to their "funnier!" videos that are inevitably marked as spam and deleted by moderators ad nauseum. A study recently estimated that 71% of all Tweets are ignored, a number that skyrockets when you filter out celebrities and internet personalities. Frankly, I'm surprised this number isn't higher. Now before you start with the pot kettle black talk, I'd like to remark that I take great pains to avoid "spamming" people with my blog posts. I do link them to my Google Buzz, and often update my status accordingly when a new post goes up (which I will do seconds after publishing/editing/republishing this), but very rarely post them to Facebook, and never harass people into reading it. I would sooner close the shutters on this blog than bombard people with childish "look at me, look at meeee!" self-promotion. If that is what is keeping me from being a household name, so be it (and let's face it, it probably is).

What I will acknowledge however, is how great Twitter is for delivery of information. Perusing Facebook for interesting information is like trying to sip from a firehose. You will end up thirsy and soaked. Maybe Twitter is how Facebook could be if Zuckerberg could do it all over again. It lacks a lot of the intimacy (and certainly the stalking), but is far more adept at getting down to the nitty-gritty. As such, I have no intention of posting anything on Twitter. However, I am following several people I consider fascinating, and would like to be notified when they share something, as it will often be thoughtful and most importantly CONCISE. I am following Roger Ebert, Kanye West, Shaq, Astrophysicist Neil Tyson, Stephen Colbert, and others. I follow a few podcasts I like to know when they put up new episodes, I follow a few bands I like for touring/album information, I may follow others if they merit it. Twitter is an unparalleled website for aggregating things you are interested in, in some ways better than Google Reader. It's not great for the deluded looking for a soapbox, but they'll inevitably get the hint sooner or later. It's Myspace without the pedophiles and page layouts that put your browser in a tilt-a-whirl. And oh look, I already have 4 Followers. I can see how people get so caught up in this.

Edu: Lentil Soup

I love soup. Let me define soup for you by telling you what soup is not. Soup should not have a consistency that allows consumption through a straw (I'm talking to you Butternut Squash). Soup should also be served hot, with a piece of warm, soft, crunchy bread. While we're at it, Soups should also not have a broth so thick that it resembles chunky gravy, or worse Gravy Train. Soup should have character, like my delicious Mulligatawny of last winter. Soup should embrace a mix of ingredients and flavors and textures instead of pureeing everything into oblivion. A good Soup is hearty and strangely refreshing. And finally, Soup should be enjoyed in the Fall/Winter months. If you want Gazpacho or Chowder, go away. If you want Stew or Bisque, buzz off. I like soup, and will be making a new soup every week and compiling the recipes here for safe-keeping.

Last week I made a Mini-Meatball Soup by Rachael Ray that I found on the Food Network website. I love Italian Wedding soup, and have been looking for similar soups (meatballs + some sort of pasta) to help me branch out into new soups without getting too crazy. It was pretty tasty, but I should have made Turkey meatballs instead of ground Beef, and added some more spices. The ground beef was just too fatty and the meatballs were a bit greasy. From now on I am sticking with Turkey meatballs and doubling all the spices. For this week's soup, I decided to try an ingredient I have never cooked with before, or eaten for that matter; lentils.

You may or may not already be familiar with lentils, but if asked to describe them prior to yesterday I would have probably used the adjective "beany" and probably "icky". Well, lentils are in fact a legume, but icky they are not. I was actually a little concerned to be making my first soup without meat in it. I think of meat as a soup safety net. In case the veggies are undercooked or the soup is poorly seasoned, sausage/meatballs are there to distract you. This fear proved to be unfounded. I'll stop talking now and get to the recipe. Please follow along at home:

Here is what you will need:

Disregard the Newcastle and the shrubbery. Here are the ingredients in list form for the hard-of-seeing.


1 onion, chopped
1/4 cup olive oil
2 carrots, diced
2 stalks celery, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoon dried oregano
2 bay leaf
2 teaspoon dried basil
2 (14.5 ounce) cans stewed tomatoes
2 cups dry lentils
8 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup spinach, rinsed and thinly sliced
1 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
2 tablespoons Balsamic Vinegar
salt to taste
ground black pepper to taste.

Conveniently, I had most of these things already from the Mini-meatball soup and only had to run out for Chicken broth, lentils and tomatoes. Like all recipes, it is important to have your mise-en-place (not to be confused with mise-en-scene, which I typed first. Although, if you have a cooking show or like to pretend you do when you're alone, this is important too.)

I don't know why I don't just use my stock carrot/celery/onion photo that I've taken a million times, but I don't and always end up getting my camera all wet after washing everything. Obviously I cut the ends off these guys and scrubbed off any dirt/discoloration/worms. I didn't peel the carrots because the skin adds flavor and I have enough trouble handling normal utensils.

Carrots and celery joined by 1 medium yellow onion, awkwardly diced on a cutting board that was already half full of vegetables. The things I do for a nice photo. Ah, reminds me of me moderland.

This is thrown into a large pot lined with olive oil on medium heat for 2-3 minutes, until the onions are "fragrant". If you're not sure what that means, stick your head over the pot and if you are instantly brought to tears, it is fragrant.

Once the veggies are cooked, add your Garlic and spices. Note: As I mentioned earlier, I doubled all the spices and added Cumin and Red pepper flakes not featured in the original recipe. The recipe above contains all my modifications. I apologize for the awkward camera angle, but the light in my kitchen is obnoxious and it's damn near impossible to not cast a shadow on things. As such, I have to stand ten feet away and zoom and hold my camera above my head like a mental patient. I closed the blinds first.

After another two minutes to allow the spices and garlic to work their sultry wonders on the veggies, add you 8 cups of chicken broth (or vegetable broth if you want the soup to be "truly" vegetarian), your two cans of stewed tomatoes (these have salt in them so I did not add any more salt), and of course, your two cups of lentils. Bring this to a rigorous boil, and reduce to simmer for about an hour. Here's what boiling looks like, you dolts.

What did I do for my hour? I read the Boston Phoenix, ate some Goldfish, stirred occasionally, and watched the first quarter of what turned out to be a shellacking of the Patriots. After an hour, I checked on things and added the Spinach (torn up into medium pieces) and the two tablespoons of Balsamic vinegar. This is what was staring back at me from the stove.

It smelled delightful. I delicately ladled it into a bowl and arranged a few pieces of bread for a photo before I dug in and burned my mouth quite extensively. This is the photo that will be opposite this recipe in my upcoming cookbook.

I like to think I can treat my own food impartially, but this was really superb. Strangely, the lentils seemed to have disintegrated a bit during the boiling process, but actually gave the soup a wholesome and meaty texture that I'm not sure would have been there otherwise. The cumin and red pepper gave it a modest kick and all the veggies were soft without being mushy. Here's what people are saying about it:

"I love this soup." - AG

"I hate to give you compliments, but this is the best lentil soup I've ever had. Even better than my mom's." -JB

"If I were on death row, this would be my last meal." -Anonymous

On Repeat: Lupe Fiasco - The Show Goes On

When you're a musician, inspiration can come from anywhere. Kanye West pieced together snippets from King Crimson's "21st Century Schizoid Man" for his single "Power", Lil Wayne and Eminem borrowed Haddaway's "What Is Love?" for their most recent collaboration, and now Lupe has gotten into the game with "Show Goes On" his first single of his upcoming LASERS, slated for a 2011 release. It might be too early to call Modest Mouse's "Float On" a classic (has it really been 6 years?), but Lupe does a fantastic job here of expanding and re-purposing the hook of the original while salvaging intricacies like the prickly guitar part that made it such a hit in the first place. His artistic liberties include an energetic brass section and an army of all-too-familiar tumbling drum hits, but the piece as a whole works surprisingly well due to Lupe's elastic delivery and brainy verses. I'm actually a little embarrassed about how long it took me to recognize the sample, and had to turn down the music to hum the chorus in my car until it came to me.

Shamefully, Lupe's name is rarely brought up when discussing the biggest and best in hip-hop. His first two albums were both critically acclaimed and commercially embraced, each selling over 500,000 copies, but in the 3 years since, he has remained virtually silent. Unlike most hip-hop personalities who would sooner die than have their names fade out of the spotlight, churning out mixtapes and guest verses at a dizzying rate, Lupe is one of the few that still subscribe to "Quality" over "Quantity", as evidenced by his lone mixtape, 2009's brilliant "Enemy of the State". Now that his tiff with Atlantic Records seems to have been smoothed over (his fans have had to picket and petition to get a release date), I can't wait to hear what Fiasco has up his sleeve for LASERS. Hopefully it's enough to get him back into the conversation.

The F is for Freedom

Not to diminish Republican victory laps (although that would be a bonus), but tomorrow marks a momentous occasion, one that transcends politics and promises bring all Americans together in celebration. Tomorrow is November 4th, the day Dwayne Michael Carter Jr AKA Weezy F. Baby AKA Lil Wayne is released from Rikers Island Penitentiary after serving an 8-month sentence for gun possession. Much has been said about Wayne's time spent in prison, from him being forced to serve his final month in solitary after being caught with contraband (headphones) to speculation regarding the release of his massively anticipated The Carter IV immediately following his liberation. It is difficult to confirm or deny these claims, but one thing is incontrovertible fact; Lil Wayne released a ton of music while he was incarcerated. Whether these tracks have been stockpiled for years in preparation for his inevitable prison sentence or he simply went on a recording binge in his final days of freedom (I'm guessing the latter), most of the songs compare favorably to some of his best work. So, in honor  of Wayne rejoining society, I'd like to list some of my favorite imprisoned Lil Wayne tracks to go on top of the 20 (TWENTY) music videos he recorded in the weekend before he reported to jail. Note: All of these songs were released while Wayne was in Rikers.

Bill Gates


Right Above It


No Love  (with Eminem)


Miss Me (with Drake)


I'm On It (with Tyga)


Shades (with Justin Timberlake and Diddy)


Light Up


Somehow the word 'prolific' just doesn't seem right.

Moss Exodus

I couldn't help but feel a swelling of pride yesterday when I read the transcript of Randy Moss' postgame news conference following the Vikings 28-18 loss to the Patriots in Foxborough. In typical Randy fashion, he accepted no questions from reporters, instead offering a stream-of-conscious monologue in which he referred to his former coach Bill Belichick as "the greatest coach in the history of football", Tom Brady as "Tommy Boy" and physically saluted Patriot owners the Kraft family and the entire Patriots organization before he left the stage. He admitted shedding a tear when fans gave him a standing ovation at the end of the game and minced no words at voicing his displeasure with the Vikings lack of preparation.

While I can't speak from experience, what has transpired here is not unlike being a parent of a moody teenager. The Patriots were exceedingly patient with Randy throughout his tenure here, choosing to lead by example with class-acts like Tom Brady rather than put him in the dog-house every time he misbehaved. At every opportunity, the organization took the high road. They praised his effort, aggressively refuted any rumor, and defended him like he was their child, regardless of the truth. He certainly pushed their generosity to its limit, but even as they traded him away, they took great pains to put him where he wanted to go, and continued to sing his praises in the weeks following his departure. This is something that doesn't happen anywhere in life, let alone in the world of professional sports where most players and coaches are egotistical loose cannons and don't have a hair-widths of patience between them. Can you imagine being a complete asshole (albeit talented) at your place of work for three years and getting your boss to write you a glowing recommendation for another job? Some would call Belichick naive, others would call him a psychological mastermind but I have an alternate theory; maybe he is just a nice guy?

Sure there's a business side to the Patriots and they certainly had an incentive to bend over backwards for a player of Randy's caliber, but when was the last time any member of the Patriots organization had anything bad to say about a former player? They have a way of doing business and handling themselves that is best encapsulated in a word that is thrown around far too often but very rarely merited: Professional. Like a parent, Belichick has high expectations for his players, but also like an effective parent, he has unwavering composure and always seems more disappointed than angry when his kids make a mistake. And when he smiles, it's like all of the angels in the sky have joined hands in song. Patriots cornerback Kyle Arrington said it best following the game yesterday, "Got to keep him smiling."

Even the most professional of organizations surely have moments when they question their decisions, and I'm sure the Patriots are no different. It couldn't have been easy to listen to Randy's first post game rant after Week 1 and continue to support him, hoping upon hope that he would someday come around. Well, it took him a month, but like a spoiled teenager coming home from college for the first time, Randy has finally seen how special the Patriots really are. And considering the Vikings released him this afternoon following his comments yesterday, it's clear what kind of organization Minnesota is as well.

Review: Catfish

It's hard to talk about a movie like Catfish without getting into spoilers. Documentaries come in many flavors, but a well-crafted one can be as thrilling and affecting as any big budget film. The most fascinating tend to take on a life of their own, stemming from a seed of an idea and blossoming beyond anything the filmmakers could have anticipated. Catfish aspires to be one of those movies, but is unable to capitalize on a fantastic story and becoming frustrating and laborious when it should be satisfying.

Catfish centers around a New York City photographer Nev Schulmann, a young man who strikes up an interesting friendship with 8-year-old Abby from Michigan after she sends him a painting she made after seeing one of his photographs. As they begin to foster a friendship, other characters become embroiled in the story, including Abby's mother Angela and Abby's older sister Megan. What began innocently becomes complex when Nev develops feelings for Meghan and resolves to pay the family a surprise visit on his way home from a Colorado dance convention. Needless to say, things are not as they seem.

I won't get into the twists and turns of the final third of the film, but suffice to say that there are some revelations that would make M. Night Shyamalan blush. Twists aside, this is where the film began to lose my attention and my patience, not good for a film that clocks in under 90 minutes. Moreso than any other genre of film, Documentaries carry with them a risk of distorting or infusing the story with opinions when they should remain impartial and let the story tell itself. The situation becomes even more precarious when the filmmakers themselves become characters in the documentary and are controlling the arc. Their every action has to be taken with a grain of salt and you can't help but ask if they are doing the things they do for a good story or their brother's well-being? At the same time, when a filmmaker takes the bold step to insert themselves into the story, they can't expect to be a fly on the wall and revert back to being a silent observer. Catfish tries to have it both ways and fails on this account.

Throughout the film, the directors interact with Nev, encouraging him to pursue things with Megan offering advice and counsel, while documenting every minute of it. When the film moves to Michigan, they tag along and outfit Nev with hidden microphones and stake out the scene from their car. But when the twists are revealed and the film strikes a different tone, they are nowhere to be found. When the climactic scenes are begging for a voice of reason or a critical eye to drive home a larger message, they make no effort to push the story to a conclusion or even hold people accountable. You didn't film hours of footage and spend months of your lives on this film to take a knee in the last scene. What could have been a powerful commentary on internet relationships and human nature instead settles for a sloppy music montage and a few lines of text to tie things together.

Lord Lord Lord

It sounds silly to say that Kanye West has reclaimed everything he was before 808s and Heartbreaks nudged him into avant-garde territory and the Taylor Swift fiasco pushed him out of the pop lexicon altogether, but it's true. It feels cheap to compare him to someone like Robert Downey Jr or Michael Vick, men who were at the top of their respective games and suffered a precipitous fall from grace. He didn't really "do" anything. Being an asshole isn't really a prosecutable offense, but prosecuted he was. In the aftermath of the Swift episode, his name was mud (or "jackass" if you're President Obama). No one was interested in what precipitated the outburst, it was easier just to write him off and watch him burn. Well, if there's anything we enjoy more than our celebrities in the US, it's a good redemption story.

Well months went by, and we heard nary a peep from Mr. West. Maybe he was hoping he could bide his time and introduce himself again to a public with a notoriously short memory. Whatever the case may be, he released "Power" in May and immediately seized the throne that had remained vacant in his absence. The strength of "Power" alone would probably have been enough to catalyze a redemptive Rolling Stone article, but Kanye had other plans. He unveiled plans to release a new song every Friday for through December. Not a remix, not alternate versions, no half-baked incomplete pieces. New fully-realized songs every week. The first G.O.O.D. Friday song was the spectacular "Monster", featuring appearances from Jay-Z, Rick Ross, Nicki Minaj and hipster darling Bon Iver. True to his word, G.O.O.D. Fridays became a holiday for music fans, with Kanye offering a glimpse into his dazzling Rolodex on a weekly basis. At a time when some of the biggest names in music lamented the death of the LP and publicly worried where the medium was headed, Kanye not only made music exciting and buzz-worthy again, but did it for free.

Well if an album's worth of free music wasn't enough for you, Kanye had a little bit more up his sleeve last night. Not exactly a 35 minute music video as much as it was a cinematic event directed by Mr. West and simulcast on VH1, MTV and BET during prime time. "Runaway" is nearly dialogue-free story of a beautiful phoenix who crash-lands on earth and is rescued by West, featuring several unreleased songs off his forthcoming album. Sounds cheeky, it's not. It is gorgeously shot, beautifully scored and impressively realized. There are less than subtle parallels to West's own fall, but it resists heavy-handed melodrama, no small feat for a film with a 9-minute, meticulously choreographed ballerina sequence smack-dab in the middle of it. Kanye is hemorrhaging creative energy these days, maybe because the past year has shown him how quickly it can all evaporate, but it's been something else to witness.

My Favorite G.O.O.D. Friday song "Christian Dior Denim Flow"


"Runaway" film - "Clean" Version

On Repeat: Warpaint - Undertow

Hello.

My name is Michael Dunn and it's been 8 days since my last blog post. Not that it's something I need to confess, or that I've been consciously not blogging, it's just that I haven't found the time. But gee willikers is there a lot to tell you. I ran the Boston Half Marathon in 1:37 (please hold your applause until the end), I took a massive Pathophysiology exam Tuesday night, I nearly won a Pumpkin Cook-off (stay tuned for the blog post), and I have become the proud owner of a real, respectable, fully functional (?) beard. Well, complete with mustache and minus that little part on my left cheek from where my parents must have branded me when I was 2. Now that you feel caught up on my life, let's get to the meat and potatoes of this blog, eh? Over the last year (!!! seriously, blog started Oct. 5, 2009. I probably should have blogged about that (META)), you've surely become accustomed to my writing style (I like to think it's TS Eliot meets Cormac McCarthy), and my tastes (overwhelmingly good), but personally, it's been interesting to read over some early blog entries and see how things have evolved. If any of you have ever done something substantial over a long period of time (doubt it), you can probably relate. It's kind of like when I found my Trapper Keeper diary when I was 16 and re-lived 2nd grade. On that note: if you think my handwriting is bad now, just IMAGINE me at 7 years old. I do want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for reading this blog, and for your support, be it in the form of an even snarkier comment or just by admitting that you read it. As evidenced by my beard, I've grown up a lot this year, and I'm glad you were along for the ride. Now back to the show:


I don't usually like female rock vocalists (except for Karen O, but she doesn't count), and have an  ESPECIALLY short attention span with ALL-GIRL groups that aren't doo-wopping or named Destiny's Child (GET BACK TOGETHER LADIES!). So imagine my response when I first got wind of Warpaint, the all-girl quartet (I don't know where the other one is the above photo. Taking the photo perhaps?) from Los Angeles. No thank you. But miraculously, the god's conspired to change my mind and it wasn't long before Undertow trickled out of my radio speakers one afternoon, and I was positively smitten. It's hard to say exactly what makes them so darn enchanting. Maybe it's the multi-part harmonies you just don't hear anymore these days, maybe it's those eerie disembodied vocals or the slippery bass lick. They are just good, and that's that. Take a listen, won't you?



  

On Repeat: John Cage - 4' 33"

In the classical music community, John Cage was by all accounts a rock star, and 4' 33" is his Freebird. He dabbled in philosophy, printmaking, mycology and poetry before dying in 1992, but he would never achieve more recognition than he did in the aftermath of his 1952 maiden performance of this composition. Cage has rightly called it the "most important work" of his career, and its shockwaves can still be felt today.

While accessible enough for even the most unrefined ear, 4' 33" finds its strength in this simplicity, wholly offering itself to its listeners; at the mercy of their interpretation and preconceptions. Personally, it's my go-to music when I've exhausted my Zune catalogue. I often listen to it before bed, and sometimes on the way to work. I listen to it when I try to study, and when I ride the bus to class. It works everywhere because it is everything. Regarding classical music, it's been said that no two performances of a piece are ever the same, which to many fans is part of the allure. Not necessarily that a note will be sharp in one and flat in another, but that every variable experiences some sort of shift, whether it be acoustics, or pacing, or the length of the coda. 4' 33" is the epitome of this phenomenon, and in many ways, even larger than it, possessing the uncanny ability to be transformed by the mood of its listener and the audience at-large.

In an era where pop music is a thinly-veiled game of one-upmanship, it's refreshing to hear from someone who is utterly unconcerned with what is popular and challenges us consider the very foundations of music.

A performance of 4' 33"


Cage speaking about the piece

Review: Sufjan Stevens - The Age of Adz

It's hard to feel bad for Sufjan Stevens. Some artists are pigeon-holed by overzealous blogs or their unique sound, others dig their own grave by revealing a 50-States-Project, wherein they aspire to write an album for every state in the union. I think you can guess in which category Sufjan falls. While he put himself in this situation, there are worse things than receiving reams of fan-mail begging you to do your next album on their state. I only write this preface because since 2005's Come On Feel The Illinoise!, it was widely assumed that Stevens had "Chappelle'd" out via some nervous breakdown, frustration, or some combination of the two. Bizarre project The BQE (about the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, of course) notwithstanding, it had been 5 years since Sufjan had made a peep, before he discretely released his All Delighted People EP in August. The "EP" was classic Sufjan, clocking in at just under 60 minutes and featured two versions of the titular "All Delighted People" and closing with the 17-minute "Djohariah". The EP may have satisfied those who pined for any scrap of the Sufjan responsible for 53-word song titles, but rather, it was the swan song of the indulgent, obtuse Sufjan.

The Age of Adz has been deceptively billed as Sufjan's "electronic" album, and though he uses many industrial sounds and loops, I would argue that Adz features some of his most personal and beautiful work to date. He treads a very fine line here, darting between the bloops and squelches of his new tools and the harps and fluttering woodwinds he is familiar with. What keeps the songs from being jarring or discordant is Sufjan's confident voice, having evolved from a shaky whisper to a Thom-Yorke yowl on "I Want To Be Well". This versatility is impressive from a man whose earlier songs had deferred to a choir or a instrumental flourish for gravitas.

Lyrically, the songs on The Age of Adz come from another place than the sterile (though affecting) history lessons of Illinois and Michigan. There are more personal pronouns in The Age of Adz than there are in Sufjan's entire discography. Each song paints a conflicted and flawed man, one fraught with regret but also struggling to become a better man. In the astonishing "Vesuvius", he goes one step further, singing "Sufjan, follow your heart/follow the flame/or fall on the floor", something he (or anyone else for that matter), wouldn't dream of doing. It is especially stirring because Stevens used to revel in ambiguity, even in his most personal songs.

This transformative album would all be for naught if it didn't take us somewhere. Album closer "Impossible Soul" is a brisk 25-minutes, and winds and twists through every nook of the album, flushing out every trick and theme he touched on earlier. An electric guitar squiggle, celestial blinks, trumpets, evolve into a piano and an autotuned segment. After these diversions are satiated, a true chorus rises like a distant sunrise. "It's a long life/better pinch yourself/get your face together/better stand up straight" is repeated over and over until your irony sensors threaten to go off. Just as you begin to feel duped, cheated and otherwise betrayed by the preceding 70 minutes, the choir finally exclaims "It's not so impossible!" and everything falls back into place. After witnessing Sufjan dig himself out of his hole, they may have a point.

The whole album is currently available for streaming on NPR. Click here to listen.

"Vesuvius"

WANT

I read a lot of blogs. Well, Google Reader helps me read a lot of blogs, but that's a topic for another day. Most of the blogs I read center around really nifty things that I lust about until I a) find a good deal and break down and buy it, b) it is within two months of my birthday/Christmas and I can make someone else buy it for me, C) I find something cooler to usurp it in my prefrontal lobes. Here are a few things that I haven't bought but are on my SOMEONEPLEASEBUYMETHIS List. Today's episode. Kitchen Gadgetry.

1. Hand Blender

I don't know how much this would help me in the kitchen, but that's part of the allure actually. I hate blenders, and food processors are a major P in the A to clean and take apart and expensive to boot. A hand blender is the perfect alternative. It makes any container a blender. You can make drinks, sauces, soups, any number of things faster than you can say "Who the fuck hid the top of the blender?". My sister works at a kitchen store and I will be asking for one of these under the tree.

2. Bobble 

They look like something Astronauts would keep their space Gatorade in, but they work any gravitational field. The Bobble is a water bottle with a filtration system attached to the spout that filters water directly into your mouth. I'm sure most of you are screaming that "there's nothing wrong with tap water" and to you I say 3 things. First, there is a 30 year age limit on this blog Dad. Second, sometimes even though the water is perfectly safe it still tastes funny. Remember that time when all the water was contaminated with Poo??!? This would have been mighty handy! No? And third, it's a lot better than drinking bottled water all the live long day.  

3. Rice Cooker

Roger Ebert has been singing the praises of rice cookers for decades, (he even wrote a rice cooker cookbook!) and if there's anyone whose opinion I trust unflinchingly, it's Roger Ebert. He claims that it makes absolutely flawless rice that will make you salivate, even if you don't like rice or have salivary glands. I'm not a huge rice fan, but I would like to see what all the fuss is about. He also claims you can make all kinds of other goodies (soups, oatmeals, etc) too, which is good, because I versatile things.

4. Nice knife set (but will settle for nice Santoku knife).

SS has instilled in me the virtues of a nice sharp knife. I don't claim to be a knife expert, or even that I know how to use a knife properly, but I do know that the $8 knife that I bought from TJ Maxx should be able to cut a tomato without smushing it. I promise I will stop putting knifes in the dishwasher if I can have a nice knife. It doesn't have to be super expensive (CMM almost plopped $350 on this 6-piece Shun set on Woot yesterday (don't tell Deirdra)) it just needs to cut things quickly and consistently. I feel like an adult after that sentence.

5. Meat Thermometer

I'm conflicted on meat thermometers. Part of me says if you follow the recipe right and keep tabs on things you shouldn't need one. And the other part of me doesn't want to be making 20 slices into a pork tenderloin and asking everyone what color pork should be and what color these "juices" are "running". If you've ever consumed something undercooked, you probably understand that it is a dangerous game of Russian Roulette. Everyone is hypersensitive following the meal, listening mindfully for the first sign of food poisoning or gastrointestinal distress. And once one person feels "icky", you know it's a ticking time bomb for the rest of  you. Actually, I just convinced myself, I should really get one of these.

Old Song Review: Harry Nilsson - Without You

I saw a trailer for a the Harry Nilsson documentary "Who's Harry Nilsson?" a couple weeks ago, and thought the same thing. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but mostly it just stirred up textbook images of folk singers and Dylan clones. The trailer paints Nilsson as a massively influential artist (worthy enough for cred from The Beatles), but it wasn't until I tracked down "The Very Best of Harry Nilsson" that I was able to fully appreciate the swath of his influence on popular music.

Folk singer has become a bit of an insult. You think of a shaggy bearded man in a flannel shirt droning his 3 chords ad nauseum. Well, Nilsson was the original bearded folk singer, but his tools and styles were vast. As I listened to his album, I quickly discovered that he was responsible for a huge amount of songs that I love and had attributed to other artists. For example, I had no idea that he sang the original "One", the fantastic dialtone-inspired that rose to prominence after being covered by Three Dog Night and later by Aimee Mann for the Magnolia soundtrack. This song alone is enough to gain him entry to a songwriting pantheon, but he also wrote "Coconut" (you'd know it if you heard it), "Everybody's Talkin'" (from Midnight Cowboy) and the song that spurred this blog post, Without You.

If you listened to "Without You" for the first time today, you would without a doubt attribute it to Meatloaf, its cadence and build-up mirroring that of "I Would Do Anything For Love". But you would be wrong, oh so very wrong indeed. Where Meatloaf hams it up, jerking the song all over the place with faux emotion and tongue-and-cheek ambiguity, Nilsson lays it all out in song, simple verses leading to a logical chorus that still manages to surprise with turbulent vocals and inspired strings. When Nilsson reaches even deeper for the second chorus, the song transcends being a song altogether. It joins songs like "I Will Always Love You", "Nothing Compares 2 U" and "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You", that are so sincere in their ambition and affecting in their execution that you worry for the artist's sanity if things don't shape up soon.

The Social Network

In recent weeks, a lot of ink has been spilled debating the accuracy of David Fincher's The Social Network, a film that attempts to tell the story behind the founding of Facebook and its meteoric rise to the 25 billion dollar company it is today. Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg himself dismissed the film on Oprah last week, and the company has relentlessly tried to poke holes in Aaron Sorkin's script that he adapted from Ben Mezrich's The Accidental Billionaires. This raging debate of the facts has produced more buzz Fincher could have hoped for, and serves to reinforce the very conflict at the heart of the film. A small miracle for a film with a 50 million dollar budget and no big-name actors to bank on. I'm here to put this frivolous chatter to rest. The truth of this film is irrelevant because whether of not the Mark Zuckerberg portrayed by Jesse Eisenberg bears any resemblance to the real Mark Zuckerberg, what drives him is universal.

Computers get a bad rap in films. They are portrayed as cold, calculating hubs of wire and circuits which ruthlessly dispel protagonists with the logical precision that comes from being untethered to the human anchor of emotion. The Mark Zuckerberg of The Social Network is little more than a powerful computer with some sophisticated algorithms. He codes, he dispenses resources, he performs functions. He recruits others to perform tasks he cannot do himself, whether it's providing the capital for his idea or a list with email addresses of popular students. He is gifted with a supreme understanding of the human condition, which allows what could have been a voyeuristic niche to become one of the largest companies in the world. His genius is made all the more interesting when it is contrasted with just how callous, jealous and awkward he his away from his computer. He views the world in stark logical terms, evaluating everything based on how it can get him closer to his goal. If it can, he must absorb and exploit it. If it cannot, it's not worth another thought. While some may think this makes him a monster (or at the very least an asshole), his refusal to play the social games we play to get what we want can be refreshing and exhilarating.

It is said that there is no such thing as an unselfish act. That no matter how friendly the gesture or how generous an action, there is always a egocentric motivation at its core. A man offers an elderly woman his seat on a bus? Well, wouldn't you know it but that simple act of kindness earned him a smile from a pretty girl across the aisle. A nice woman helps you change your tire on the side of the road? Now she has an excuse when her boss asks her why she missed the big meeting. Whether he was born like this or achieved this level of social indifference, to Mark Zuckerberg, we are suckers for being so coy. If only he had applied this attitude towards his social life, he could probably have been a Tucker Max clone. Instead, it seems he wanted to burrow his way into popularity and esteem by inventing a new world that he was the center of, and allowing everything else to fall in place around him.

Of course, in a world that still runs on favors and tact, this journey was not without conflict. His only friend (for reasons I can't understand) Eduardo is forced to become his PR man and CFO. He crashes and burns over dinner with a girlfriend in the opening scene that I can't fathom how he ever got past a first date with. He has a plan for Facebook that has nothing to do with money and everything to do with power and the satisfaction you can only get from succeeding where others have failed. He alienates and exploits people, decisions which will have legal repercussions but I'm not sure he would have done any differently in retrospect. All in the name of filling some mammoth hole in his psyche that feels judged and patronized under normal circumstances.

Despite what critics have been saying (it currently has 97% on Rotten Tomatoes), I don't believe The Social Network to be a masterpiece. It is an exquisitely well-crafted film, filled with razor-sharp dialogue and compelling characters. The acting is effective and characters are well-cast. Justin Timberlake is a howl as the playboy Sean Parker, Jesse Eisenberg plays Mark Zuckerberg with a perpetually sour face and detached stare, but it is Andrew Garfield's brilliant role of Eduardo Saverin that shoulders the emotional load of this movie, and gives it heart it could stand to have a lot more of. He is the comic relief for most scenes with Zuckerberg, and the only one interested in asking the tough questions when things get out of control. Of course, his loyalty becomes his achilles heel, but it's riveting to watch.

The difference between The Social Network and There Will Be Blood, (another story of a man who categorizes humans as either "obstacle" or "tool") is that at the end of TWBB, we see Plainview in a bed of his own making, forced to come to terms of his actions and the consequences of a life devoid of compassion. At the end of The Social Network, the arc is incomplete. After 2 hours of scratching at these themes in a compelling and technically satisfying way, there's still a whole lot that feels unearthed. One day, Mark will have to reconcile being king of a digital world and a prick in the real one, but at 26, that day seems a long way off. Perhaps the filmmakers should have shelved the biopic for a time closer to his comeuppance.