|
|
|
bars & clubs movie clock restaurants specials best of chicago film and video food and drink music and clubs stage style words sports features |
|
|
![]() Click for music events Raw Material One-trick ponies, please
The presence of Juliette Lewis, not only in a rock `n' roll band but
actually playing live in Chicago (April 27 at the Bottom Lounge), brings
to the surface memories of several ill-fated, several semi-successful
attempts by actors and actresses to enter the arena of music.
Though the reverse seems to work much better (Marky Mark to Mark
Wahlberg, Ice Cube into the occasional decent acting Ice Cube), when
professional actors attempt to make the switch, there are, more often
than not, big problems. Below are some of the more notorious efforts.
(For insight on Juliette and the Licks, see listings.)
There should be an inserted recording of both William
Shatner's and Leonard Nimoy's attempts at music next to the
definition of "ironic" in Webster's Dictionary. At least--I
think--Shatner knew he was biting off a big piece of the "I" word when
he was recording "Has Been" with Ben Folds last year. His strangely
alluring, verse-like cant rolls off Capt. Kirk's tongue without even the
slightest sense of reflexive awareness. As for Nimoy, he released (and
various merciful record labels have since re-released) the absolute
classic grand-slam of pop-culture irony, "Mr. Spock's Music from Outer
Space," on which he alternates between Shatner's type of verse and
actual singing, and both are so bad that even now, nearly forty years
later, you're embarrassed for him. It remains amazing to me that some
Euro DJ hasn't already jumped on a remix of "Twinkle Twinkle Little
Earth." Perhaps this goes without saying, but neither Nimoy nor Shatner
made a record that's good in the traditional, literal sense of the word,
but both are completely worth having. Rhino was smart enough to compile
the best of both from the sixties on the double LP, "Spaced Out: The
Best of Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner," yet another calculation in
the theorem that says I have too many records.
On the complete opposite end of the spectrum lies Keanu
Reeves and his band, Dogstar. Now offhand, I'll usually defend Keanu
Reeves' career. He's found a niche in the pretty-man/sci-fi film worlds,
even though he already could've lived forever thanks to "Bill and
Ted." But that kind of slack doesn't get cut for the music side;
Dogstar is unreservedly terrible. Like the last bit of gunk you wipe
from corners of your eyes in the morning, Dogstar adhered to a grunge
genre already fully encrusted with age. The band's hopefully titled
"Happy Endings," its only full-length, wasn't bad enough to be good
and hardly good enough to, well, keep.
The first time I heard that Kevin Bacon was indeed one of the
Bacon Brothers, I assumed he was doing it so as to expand the nebulous
circle of people who make up the "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon." But
alas, research revealed that KB actually started the band with his
brother Michael long before he was semi-famous enough to warrant a part
in every movie ever made. That fact doesn't help the final result,
though. The Bacon Brothers' three records are a tepid collection of
Americana/alt-country efforts with very little bite, worthwhile melody
or genuine American heart. The last, "Can't Complain," sounds just as
toothless as its title makes it sound.
Perhaps on par with Keanu Reeves all-star effort, Russell
Crowe's presence in 30 Odd Foot of Grunts garners far more interest
for the band than it deserves. Though the band has an astonishingly
genuine fan base (unlike Dogstar, which gathers its ardent supporters
from Keanu Reeves fan clubs), this modern equivalent to stadium rock
that wears its heart on its sleeve still feels the absence of any
genuine musicianship or energy. The band has actually been recording for
a decade, and has four records to its credit. Its most recent, "Other
Ways of Speaking," was a minor commercial success that led to a
moderately successful tour (five straight nights at Chicago's House of
Blues), but was a bore that shows Crowe takes himself way too seriously.
Case in point: a cover of "Folsom Prison Blues" done as part of a
three-song medley to end the record, that I don't think was recorded
with any sense of the "I" word.
If you're looking for an actors band that isn't so bad it's good or
just straight bad, Phantom Planet--formerly featuring actor Jason
Schwartzman--comes closest. In fact, it even doubles the idea, as
another band member, Alex Greenwald, starred in "Donnie Darko."
Looking for the caveat, searching... there it is: Personally, I think
Phantom Planet's candy-shop take on rock `n' roll sounds and smells like
a big steaming pile of crap straight out of the ass of a sugar-spun
Clydesdale. But I also understand that it's well-produced, sweet-tooth
friendly and at least a legitimate attempt to transfer feeling into
music. Phantom Planet almost doesn't count, though, as they were playing
well before any of the members could've realistically been labeled as
professional actors. Not to mention that Schwartzman's departure leaves
Greenwald as the band's only actor, and one movie does not an actor
make.
Also by Dave Chamberlain Tip of the Week
Tip of the Week
Tip of the Week
Raw Material
Tip of the Week
Tip of the Week
Tip of the Week
Raw Material
Punk Principles
These are the Good Times
Tip of the Week
Tip of the Week
|
|
about Newcitychicago | about Newcity magazine | advertising | privacy policy | FAQ | employment |