God only knows how excited I was last Wednesday when I booked from work to head to my favorite Manhattan shop, Forbidden Planet, for the fourth iteration in the spectacular adventures of ex-boyfriend fighting hipster, Scott Pilgrim. For those who have followed this kinetic  soap opera, the annual Scott Pilgrim digests follow the adventures of a 23-year-old slacker who must battle his girlfriend’s seven evil exes in order to stay with her. The amazing thing about Bryan Lee O’Malley’s serials is how they analogize the drama and strife of 20-something dating through over-the-top kung fu fights and playful pop-culture commentary. Who hasn’t ever felt like dragon-punching your significant other’s pretentious vegan ex-boyfriend before head-butting him into oblivion (I’m literally pausing right now to fantasize)? Fortunately, the ridiculous fights are balanced with superb characterization and real affection for these characters, whose quirks are easily found in some of your real-life friends and flames.

Unfortunately, Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together doesn’t live up to the standards of the previous three volumes. The ex he fights in this edition isn’t as memorable as the ex-professional skateboarder or aforementioned telekinetic vegan bass player from volumes past. Likewise, the hilarious parallels between Scott and video-gaming nostalgia are flimsy at best (a digital thirst meter?). My biggest complaint, though, is the characterization behind gay roommate Wallace and the rest of his friends. The characters stray from idiosyncratic lovability into some pretty strange directions that I won’t spoil. Suffice to say, Pilgrim always thrived in its balance between realism and fantasy, but this realism is strained into some tired territory that would fit more into exploitive teenage melodrama than everyone’s favorite Canadian Manga.

That said, I wouldn’t discourage anyone from picking this series up. A lackluster Scott Pilgrim shines brighter than 90% of anything else from the big two. Apparently I’m not alone in my praise for this series, as the stock at Forbidden Planet was clean sold out in hours and I had to travel to St. Mark’s where a lone copy thankfully remained.

As a national music and film writer, I generally become frustrated at mainstream media’s acute lack of regard for innovation. It’s not that the great video/audio/publishing machine doesn’t put new faces on display; it’s just that those faces aren’t exactly new. Playing the same music as the last popular artist with more marketing and a new demographic doesn’t exactly define artistic progress.

Obvious industry rants aside, it gives me sincere pleasure when I stumble across bands like Southeast Engine. Residents of the Appalachian Neverland of Athens, Ohio, this
Folk Rock quintet follows a singular muse that couldn’t be found further from the processed beats and angular guitar riffs of modern rock.

SE Engine weaves an organic kaleidoscope of passionate folk-rock and tangible hooks into delicate melodies that more than deserve national recognition. Their new album, “A Wheel Within A Wheel,” isn’t so much an instant-gratification pop experience as the beautifully realized interplay of seamless musicianship and nostalgic acoustic balladry.

Vocalist Adam Remnant carries the whispered legacy Johnny Cash without a larynx full of cigarette smoke and liquor. His combined lyrics, quasi-religious and perpetually introspective, are as reassuring as they are moving. Coupled with the kinetic swell of rock choruses, tracks like Ostrich and Quit While You’re Ahead move with fury and resonance grounded in their simplicity and grace.

Like the works of Sufjan Stevens and Page France, “Wheel” is a genuine display of how Telecasters, restraint and talent belie some of the most significant touchstones in independent music.

Web site: http://www.southeastengine.com

Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/southeastengine

This year’s most nostalgic alt-rock parade, held at Grant Park in Chicago, took a more subtle note from years’ past with a lineup that spoke more to fan loyalty and longevity than emerging buzz and bombast. Iggy and The Stooges, Pearl Jam and Modest Mouse all spoke to their respective die-hard collectives, but as far as sporting the best rookies, the lineup fell a bit short. Last year’s festival capitalized on the most electric acts of 2006 with Gnarls Barkley, Editors, Mates of State, The Raconteurs and Panic! at the Disco. While Kings of Leon, The Black Keys, The Hold Steady and Polyphonic Spree helped to continue that trend, artists such as Explosions in the Sky, Brazilian Girls, Shiny Toy Guns, Rufus Wainwright, Junior Boys, Lily Allen and Patrick Wolf were sorely missed, not to mention Smashing Pumpkins, Nine Inch Nails and the reassembled Rage Against the Machine, who all broke their teeth touring with the festival in the early 90s.

(more…)

This week saw the release of the latest Nine Inch Nails record, Year Zero. The dystopian concept album not only describes the rise of fascist right-wing Christians, but Trent Reznor’s return to form as he embraces the electronica and industrial that marked his earliest work. Year Zero harkens back to the days when Reznor was churning out industrial funk in the bowels of Cleveland. Each track is another exercise is NIN’s trademark self-flagellation, but it brings back the minimalist techno elements that made Pretty Hate Machine and The Downward Spiral morbidly danceable. Tracks like “Vessel” and “The Warning” pulse with synthesized beats and distorted hip-hop grooves, asserting Reznor’s self-proclaimed love of synthpop (T. Rex, Prince) and hip-hop (Public Enemy).

If you’re on the fence about Year Zero, make no mistake that this is a departure from the crumbling, down tempo tracks of The Fragile and With Teeth. The dance floor of Armageddon has never been hotter.

The Arcade Fire is spreading, and nothing can stop it. The token Montreal indie caravan has transcended its art house beginnings to become a staple in America’s pop conscious, and the only reason you can’t call them sellouts is because they have sacrificed nothing in the process, save an SNL appearance.

The Neon Bible LP is just as dense and Wagnerian as the group’s previous work, channeling the high-concept writing and hyperbolic orchestration that made the group the music industry’s dark horse for years. The album mixes the eloquent melancholy of tracks like “Ocean of Noise” with the band’s signature energy on “No Cars Go” and “Black Mirror.”

The worst-kept secret of Arcade Fire’s dramatic ascension is its live show. Never having been to one, all I can say is that the responses from my peer journalists and friends has been described as…biblical (no pun intended). Every instrument and voice supposedly morphs into a unifying elemental power of awe and beauty- kind of like Captain Planet, except with French horns. I may be preaching what many writers have preached before, but I here forth activate the-next-big thing alarm for The Arcade Fire.