Continuing in my series of Pa Primary coverage ala Colbert's historic visit to Philadelphia, I'd like to take this post to turn our spotlights on the city of Brotherly Love itself.

I find it oddly disturbing that Hillary seems to have pulled through the gates today as the favorite, over Obama.

Perhaps more than anywhere else, Philly loves our heroes. When they fail, we throw batteries at them and utterly smite their good name better than any other major metropolitan area on the map. But we've seen too many good things run away from us to not be magnetized towards heroes. Remember how hard we clung to Allen Iverson's back? Donovon McNabb's ankles? Or even Shawn Bradley's neck right after he was drafted? We all loved anyone that looked like they could come in and change things, clear the debris and usher in a new golden age of Philly enlightenment. Philly is always looking for our real live Rocky's. For a new place to eat a cheesesteak.

But no one ever makes it up those stupid Art Museum steps, do they? No. And nothing makes us angrier than getting our hopes up.

But why have the polls been favoring Hillary in our state? She certainly isn't the more hero-like of the two. She has no Rocky in her. She would sooner remove the steps and install an escalator. In fact she's more like the arch enemy supervillain. She's like the Doc Ock of politics! (or, Two Face anyone?) Of course, that doesn't mean she isn't a capable leader. But I think she's more fit to lead, say, a business. And that's the biggest problem with America. Patrioticism has become a business. Our three branched democracy government has become business. So if we want to keep it like a business, than yea, let's elect Hillary.

But... I say LAISSEZ FAIRE, wife of Clinton! You lack the charisma to save a country in need of a jump start. There is nothing inspiring about you, and shouldn't the first woman to get this far in election be inspiring?!

Have you seen any political poll within the past decade? Split, down the middle. America does not agree on anything anymore. We are a whole in divide! A broken home! And you, Hillary, you lack the unifying force we need. Most candidates for Pres that stumble along these days do, and you're just another one of those. A bump in the road. You're boring. You appeal to old people because they would like to see a woman in office before they die. That would be neat. And you aren't Republican. But yet, you're like the CEO business woman mogul monster of the Democratic Party. I say a strugging business (like Journal Register.. for instance) should employ you if you want to fix things, because you aren't gonna fix what's happened here in America. You ain't duct taping no American divide, and we all know it.

But have you seen Obama talk? Have you seen the well of stars that get stirred up in peoples eyes when he takes a podium? I know a hero when I see one. And you should know I do, because I write about em enough. And I can tell you I haven't paid attention to politics in a long time, not until Obama came along. He has inspired me to think about my country again, about our leaders again.

Last week at the Colbert Report taping was the closest I had come to being in his presence, and even though he was there via a video conference, I felt what people talk about. That feeling like you're in the presence of something grand. The comparisons to Kennedy and Lincoln are not out of left field.

Colbert's crowd roared. Exploded. Before that moment, there was an air of disapointment that Hillary was the candidate who made an appearence. And go ahead and listen to the difference in applause for when both showed up on the show. Hillary's was warm and receptive, but it was more of a celebrity applause. When Obama popped up on the screen, all hell broke loose. Everyone was out of their chair and shouting, clapping, crossing themselves, thanking God.

So now, Pennsylvania, it is on us. We have crucified our own who have screwed us in Super Bowls, NBA Final games, and World Series. We have cursed and thrown bowls of nachos at digital images of those we called heros for missing their cue, missing their calling, for keeping us off the map. For royally blowing the game. Now it's our turn. The ball is in our hands and the country is watching us. Let's not become what we have hated.

This is our chance to be the heros, to be the Rocky's, to bring home the gold. Let's nominate a real hero to run for this November's election, not one that is full of promises and policies, but one that inspires. That's what a leader is supposed to do, not manage a business.

For a week or so now, the entire nation has focused in on us here in PA.

And not just because they want to know if we like Obama more than Clinton.

Last week, all eyes were in a dead lock on us because we, the suburbanites of Philadelphia and it's surrounding areas got a new brother to love (no tongue though) --Stephen T. Colbert. For the birthing bedrock of modern democracy, Philly hadn't had a mantle to polish off on in modern times, outside of Rocky. We're known as the town with sports teams that blow every shot they get. That, and cheesesteaks. America knows us through cliches and founding fathers. Historic Philly and modern image Philly are as separated as Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston. The dark side of the force and the Jedi. Morrissey and the rest of The Smiths.

And now, perhaps, the fate of America's next decade lies in our hands. Irony is a funny man. And Stephen Colbert is his nephew.

Colbert's series of shows from Philly last week reminded me that loathing my Philly roots is something to be proud of, something to brag about and shovel in people's faces, flaming piles of it. He came to Temple University with jumper cables for us and his quality brand of hard-nails not-so-journalism, and he gave the PA Primary exactly what it needed. Not in-depth coverage, but leverage. That's what he's always done with his show, but now he was just down the road from us.

So, we the Scene & Heardicans of blogosphere nation had to see it for ourselves last Thursday for the taping of his final Philly episode. That was the big one, with Obama, Clinton, and a hilarious John Edwards. We came, we saw, we Colberted. And it was immaculately awesome. And that's The Word. (Or The Ed Word, whatever.)

Now, tomorrow, is the big day. The big Tuesday. The big showdown. It's the Aaron Burr vs. Alexander Hamilton duel of our day. So, as another quality outlet of fiery journalism, we here at Scene & Heard will be using our blogging time to cover the PA Primary, our way. And that's by dissecting what we witnessed at the Colbert taping last Thursday. And maybe tossing in some Harvey Dent campaigning too.

For Part 1 of this series, we're going to look at what happened while the cameras weren't rolling. Colbert, BEHIND THE SCENES.

First, a lot of people wanted to get in, and many droves of wrist-strongies didn't. Heck, we barely did. I ended up with a seat in the very back row, after standing and waiting for more than 2 hours. While about 700 people strong packed into the Annenberg Center's lobby to stand in one joint crowd for a treacherously long time, the usual string of Philly chants made their rounds. From the Eagles chant to repeated waves of "a*s-hole." At the time though, we didn't realize he had such an uncanny list of surprise guests to be waiting for. Though the swarming secret service dudes gave us an idea there'd be at least one guest of note.

Once sat, the producers prepped us, told us the part we had to play in the show (cheerleaders on coke, essentially). The opening comedian made a good point when the crowd began to throw some Hilary boo's his way. This is a Comedy Central show, not a CNN news program. Anyone that shows up is Colbert's guest, including us, and no one cares about an audience member's disapproval of anyone on the show. Pro-approval only. So that set the tone, and we went on.

What didn't you see in terms of entertainment that I did?

Benjamin Franklin rocking out on his walking cane like a guitar.

Some excellent music between sets, Green Day, Rancid, REM, Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros..

Colbert feeding Ben Franklin Doritos. Franklin losing them in the air and having to dig through his coat to find them.

Colbert doing show-stopping handstands.

Colbert: "To give you an idea of how much hairspray is in my hair, I just held a handstand and my hair did not move."

Profuse apologies from anyone involved with the show for making us wait long, before dissing Penn State alumni.

Colbert fielding questions from the crowd, out of character. One such question was "what is your idea of a perfect date. His reply was goofy and swarmy turning serious, "getting home in time to see my kids these days is good enough for me."

Much more quality air time from all the guests that was cut from the final half-hour product. Hillary's fixing of the screen was much more involved, asking more questions of Jimmy, before fixing it to ironically make way for Obama's video conference at the end of the show.

The first third of the show, or so, also had to be re-shot because the producers played the wrong footage of the previous night's debate.

A heavy dose of Colbert. The whole experience was just incredible. It took an ironic and deeply sarcastic comedy program to unearth the truth not only about what these democratic candidates can offer the future of our country, but also the truth of what it means to be from Philadelphia... and what it means to be American.

Tomorrow, Primary Day, I'll dive into the Philadelphia / patriotic side of things I came away from The Colbert Report with last week, along with something of an endorsement.

It's easy to wander off and get historically lost in superhero oblivion right now, what with all the comic books and super heroes being adapted into movies right now. But it's okay, don't panic! I'm your friendly neighborhood superhero heroin, here to keep you up to speed.

Here is the latest in supehero movie productions this year.

Iron Man - In theaters May 2. (You can expect 2 sequels, and Downey Jr. says he'll do 15 sequels)
The Incredible Hulk - In theaters June 13 (aka Ed Norton vs Marvel Studios)
Hell Boy 2 (The Golden Army) - In theaters July 11 (I'll pass).
The Dark Knight - In theaters, July 18 (aka the comic book movie that's gonna deserve some Oscars)
Punisher: War Zone - December 5 (aka the Punisher movie that isn't gonna be half as good as the Thomas Jane one)
The Spirit - In theaters Jan 8, 2009
X-Men Origins: Wolverine - Currently filming, set for May, 2009 (you can expect a sequel to this prequel, and another spin off or two: Gambit, Magneto, Deadpool)
Watchmen - In theaters March 6, 2009 (I premise that it will be wicked wild good)
Captain America - Being written, slated for 2009. (As a marketing guru, I'd imagine release date is July 4.)
Justice League Mortal - In writing limbo, but slated for 2010. (supposed to produce lots of Spin offs, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Lantern
The Man of Steel - slated for 2010, "Superman Returns" sequel. Because DC comic movies don't use numbers in titles.
The Flash - coming in the coming years, meant to be a spin off of the Justice League flick
The Avengers - It will probably be after The Iron Man trilogy concludes, but is supposed to be wicked good. So maybe sometime in the next decade?

You know that awesome trailer for Iron Man that's been getting fan boys around the net-o-sphere all hot and bothered? Well, trusted news source, The Onion, is now reporting that Marvel Studios are planning to adapt said trailer into a full-length movie which will be hitting theaters May 2. Well, buckle my britches!

Of all the quality media outlets which Coldplay could have let hear their new upcoming record, "Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends" (the coolest phrases that ever made up the dumbest album title ever, btw), they KIDNAPPED New York Magazine's blogger, Vulture, for the first exclusive listen of one of this year's most anticipated records. Check out his HILARIOUS track-by-track review. Turns out you can have more than one "weakest moment" to a record. And I am REALLY looking forward to hearing "Cemetaries of London."

Every once in a while, I take in a live show by myself and become soaked in this big cosmic cleansing of my head and soul. It's like grabbing a live wire and calmly sticking it's frothing sparky end to my face, and seeing this great big light that's gone dark on me in month's past. It's like opening up blind eyes. (Or face-melting, take your pick.)

Last Sunday April 13, was such an occasion.

I swung to The Trocadero in Philly to catch Nada Surf, and watching the exuberant trio exclamate around the stage with their fantastic servings of fuzzy altern-a-rock for a packed house, years after nearly tossing in the towel, was like taking a long deep look in the mirror at myself.

Although, we are quite different-Nada Surf and I; I'm not teetering on the verge of middle age, or regarded as a one-hit wonder casualty of the 90's grunge era (if you remember MTV's Buzz Bin, you remember "Popular"). Nor have I tracked a record with Ric Ocasek or turned around a fizzling out career into a successful bedrock of warm-hearted indie rock. But I can tell you that the notes banging out of their amps last night were synced with my brain waves, that everything made sense, that they spoke my native tongue.

Perhaps not so ironically, their main set props were 5 convex mirrors that faced out towards the crowd from behind the band. And sometimes, when angled just right, it made Nada's butts look twice as big. But it was during this headlining set, with these 3 elder statesmen of indie rock conducting their symphonic radness and their curved mirrors that I saw myself, and everything around the bend.

They punched through a tight set heavy on songs from their recent (and mediocre) release, "Lucky" and flipped past most of the ones I was oozing out of my head to hear, like "Slow Down" and a whole mess of staples off "The Weight Is A Gift" and "Let Go." No "Concrete Bed," no "Imaginary Friends," no "Mother's Day," no "The Way You Wear Your Head"... I hate to say it, but it was a whole lot of NADA...

(Although, in hindsight, if they had played "Your Legs Grow," I would have most certainly bawled in front of the girls I ended up sitting next to at the bar, which would have scored me a whole lot of lame points.)

But even though they cranked out only a small lunk of the songs I was dieing to hear, I can't give one slight of hand to any of the songs I did hear. And the rest of the packed house can't either. Everyone was very much into it.

Picture this. A full 2-floor venue of people on their feet shouting "Oh, f*ck it!" in pitch-perfect unison, along with singer/guitarist Matthew Caws as he and the band bashed out the chorus to "Blankest Year." "Oh f*ck it, we're gonna have a party!" we all thundered. And every time the happily f-bombed chorus came back around, we dropped it louder and louder.

Nada Surf - "Blankest Year"
from The Weight Is A Gift

Or picture this one. The entire venue swaying back and forth in 2-step rhythm to the melancholy beat of "Inside of Love," because Caws said he always envisioned the song as a Motown classic that needed a choreographed dance to go with it. So he showed us his 2-step dance, played the song, and we danced in perfect harmony with him and bassist Daniel Lorca through the entire song. A whole room of happy kids singing, moving back and forth together. It was amazing, in a word or two.

Nada Surf - "Inside of Love"
from Let Go

Or try a 25-minute encore on for size where Caws talked twice as quick between songs to make sure they squeezed in as many songs as possible. And when they reached deep into their bag of songs to play "Stalemate," an even older classic track reared it's head halfway through the song. One minute it's vintage Nada, the next I'm singing along to Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart?" What the! Precisely when I turned to the girl next to me and lit up like a stick of ignited dynamite in a field of gasoline. I may or may not have grabbed her shoulders and shouted a bit. "Holy what the heck is going on here! That's Joy Division!"

But it wasn't the special moments that made the night special for me. Most every concert has those. (Nor was it the drooling drunk girl who kicked me in the back for laughing at her when she shouted "You need groupies, I'll have sex with you!" across the entire venue from behind my frail ear drums.)

Caws remarked at one point, "I have a confession to make. Well's it's not a confession, but I have to say this. You are the biggest crowd we've ever played to in Philly. And I mean that. You seriously get bigger and better every time we come back." That's the special part, the mirror part, the wiping my face with a ruptured electrical wire part.

At this point in Nada's career, they should be burning out, fading away quietly. They had their quick dash of fame in 1996. Then they were nearly curbed when Elektra Records thought their follow up record, The Proximity Effect, totally blew because they "didn't hear a single." (Which is way dumb, because seriously, have you HEARD that album?) At that point they stopped being Nada Surf, got full time jobs, and almost succumbed to being real live grown ups.

A little later, they wrote 2 of the best records I've ever heard.

And here they were Sunday night, at the top of their game and arguably at the top of the world for a 2nd time. They've since become staples of the underground pop rock realm, crown princes of Sub-Pop rock.

And so how does this compare to me, at all? I had a lot of big dreams last year. I've always aimed high, but some things were really starting to feel really good. I was in the Buzz Bin, if you will. But then I got sidetracked. I got told I wasn't good enough. I ended up elsewhere, doing something else. It wasn't where I wanted to be, where I wanted to make noise. I ended up with a full time job here in the town I had always longed to leave behind.

That's not to say I'm not greatful for where I set my hat these days, or that I don't love the faces I see on a daily basis. If anything, it's taught me the importance of knowing who you are and where you come from. I'm very much a happy and thankful kid for the way the carpet has rolled out. And I'm learning to stop asking for seconds when I haven't even finished my firsts.

To see Nada Surf polishing off their old crowns in their 40s, a decade and some records after nearly Thelma and Louising their rock career, its a glimmer of hope for me. I'd like to think that if a wrecking ball came smashing through this wall here, I'd break apart into some Nada Surf songs. Their music isn't difficult or vital. But they continue to make warm-hearted accepting music of a unique language. It's like they're re-writing love, success, friendship, growing up, and life, for those like me who think they already have all that stuff figured out, those who think that stuff is simple. It isn't.

Like I said earlier, I think their most recent record "Lucky" pales in comparison to the rest of their work, but there isn't a song more appropriate to tie all of this together than "Beautiful Beat" which comes from said album. I'll leave you with you that.

Nada Surf - "Beautiful Beat"
--from Lucky

Bonus mp3s!
Nada Surf - "Concrete Bed (Acoustic)"
Nada Surf - "Hyperspeed"

Myspace / Website / Wiki

Nada Surf tunes have been lining the walls and wailing through open windows all around me today. Which could mean it's a regular day, if you wanna be honest, but it's not. No, there's a reason the best one-hit-wonder-of-the-grunge-era-turned-thoughtful-indie-rock-slicksters are getting cranked wherever I go today. If I were mayor of Nada Surf town, I'd be giving them the key to the city today. It's Nada Surf Day!

And don't cry if you missed it, dude, there's always tomorrow! No one said Nada Surf Day could be one day only. Psh!

So I put together a tight little mix of the band's boldest jams, gems, and fireballs. Or atleast, as far as I'm concerned. I surely could have made it a billion different ways, but it's a pretty rad order and selection if I do say so myself. I tried to tie their entire career into it with some surprises and think it turned out pretty fantastic. It stretches from their swampy hyper-grunge roots to their unique warm-hearted pop rock of today, with some pleasant surprises sprinkled in the middle.

Go ahead, kid, go listen to the Alotta Nada! Mix Tape.

And if ya dig, come back a little later. I'll have an mp3 or two up to go along with my comprehensive show review of their show last night in Philly, which marked the end of their US "Lucky" tour.

After taking in a killer set by Nada Surf and Illinois last night at The Troc, I declare today as Nada Surf day. I'll post a review, some mp3s and an ultimate Nada mix later on, but let's get it started with YouTube Mondays, word? (Ugh, I hate when I end sentences with 'word')


Here's "Whose Authority," the first video from Nada Surf's most recent album, Lucky. Although it riffs an awful lot off Green Day's "Warning" video with a dude biking around Manhattan showing total disregard to getting hurt, sick, killed, beaten, stabbed or effed with everything he does, the 'dude' is Pete.. as in the elder Pete from Pete and Pete, one of the greatest shows of television history. And if you dissect the video, it's full of nods to other Nada Surf songs and cameos of indie-rock's crown princes. So it's a pretty killer music video for a pretty decent tune.



Green Day - "Warning"

As far as I'm concerned, sharing didn't exist until the invention of the mixtape. Seriously, what did we share before that? Toys, apple juice and intravenous drugs? Booooring.

After which, boys and girls (usually the kind thatPublish Post could recite lines from any John Hughes flick) spent sleepless nights shut up in their rooms wading in the fluid world of their headphones, surrounded by swaying stacks of vinyl & cassette tapes trying to fit together the perfect synchronized set of songs for a special someone with songs both familiar and totally obscure. A crush, a lover, a friend, a parent, a girl you met in passing at the grocery store last week who said she liked your Flaming Lips shirt; anyone was game for your cassette tape's aim.

And if you ended up crafting the masterpiece mix, it not only shared some fine swanky tunes with whomever's set of ears you were aiming for, but it shared you; emotions and words you wouldn't have been able to convey otherwise. It was transferring your heart, mind, emotions and fingerprints all onto tape. It was an analog you! With all the scratches, twists, crackles, sparks and hisses.

They also opened up a time portal. Every time after that, decades later even, your mix recipient could pop their cassette in and immediately wash away back to their memories of you and that time, all vividly with the soundtrack steering their boat. Heck, I bet my talking about mixtapes is stirring up some of your fonder mixtape memories. Mixtapes do that. And they do it better than anything short of a flying Delorean with a Flux Capacitor.

Heck, I have a tape that I made with my best friend when I was in 2nd grade, and we "DJ" together on it. Just to hear my voice at that age trips my head. And, no, I won't let you hear it for any amount of money.

Then came CD's, the internet and iTunes. Mixes have endured the digital age in the form of "mixes" on CD-r's. Not as DIY romantic or indie-cute, but just as effective and powerful.

Get ready for the next age of mixes and sharing, because now we can share our mixes with all the other mix nerds dotting the globe via internet. Judging from other sites and blogs where I've seen Muxtape talked about, I'd say 'muxtape' has already become regarded 'new net lingo'---"check out my new muxtape!"

At www.muxtape.com you can upload your mixes and the rest of us can listen to them anytime, anyplace, long as we have internet access. I'm already pouring through their stacks and stacks of megabyted mixes to see if any ex-gfs have had trouble letting go of the tunes we once shared. But I should probably let the stalking to Facebook...

In any case, you can expect me to put a handful of tapes up on muxtape in the near future.

No, it isn't the movie poster to Cliffhanger 2. (But that'd be just as awesome.) As you can see, I dressed up the ol' blog with some new pretty. Why did I choose a man jumping off a roof? Why not?! My head is in the clouds most of the time. I write about things that knock me off my feet. And I work without a net, people. So why not be up front about it?

And in other news; anytime I go to take the new Black Keys disc (Attack and Release) out of my cd player, it holds a shotgun to my head and snarls at me, like a scorned lion, till I take my hand away from the eject button. The album is boss! Check out some songs.

Robert Downey Jr., this is your year.

Get ready for hyperspeed overhype! The Dark Knight trailer has snagged some frantic fanboy competition here at S&H HQ, because the Tropic Thunder trailer is fan. tas. tic.

Good things deserve pats on the back, exuberant high fives, unrealistic adjectives & titles of grandeur, golden plaques and wheel barrows of cash.

But, a perfect world, this is not. Good things, particularly in the rockosphere, are usually limited to high fives only. The big money making draws get the pats on the back, the golden plaques and the expensive lunches.

However, Bob Dylan has never adhered to the system, or any other system and consequently has become the greatest award vandal I can think of in the music business, low-blowing the rules and running away with what his work has rightfully earned.

Though his spirit is one of the clearest definitions of rock n roll, I mumble profanities to myself when people refer to his music as 'rock n roll.' Even his most electric tunes strike me as folk songs, tales, and roaring carnivals of noise; like a novel brought to life as a pop up book with fireworks and cannonballs, a novel that was typed out with lightning bolts instead of a typewriter. To call him a musician falls short. To call him a poet laureate falls even shorter. To call him anything is to miss the point and sound like a bozo who needs a donkey to pin a tail to.

To me, that is what a Pulitzer Prize should award (NOT the bozo). Not just a story. Not just a story worth telling. But a story that opens up an entire library, a back window to the world. Not just a story that shows you the dirt, but gives everyone a shovel and plenty of reasons to dig. A story that makes you want to tell your own story. Or a picture that doesn't tell me a 1000 words, but a million. The strength in writing anything doesn't come from wording something eloquently or cleverly, but from how hard you push the pen against the paper. And Dylan taught writers, songwriters, artists, and photographers that you can put more than ink on a piece of paper, more than noise in the air, and more than dreams in your head.

I couldn't think of a person more fit from the 20th century for a Pulitzer Prize than Bob Dylan to win the Pulitzer. So, way to step up Pulitzer awarders. You're like the one group of awarders left giving away the right awards to the right people.

Although you didn't give The Mercury their 3rd one yet, creating an honorary one for Bobby sews your amends right up. I guess you can say some good things do get what they deserve. AND wheelbarrows of cash. That's $10,000 crisp Washingtons by my count. If I got that, I wouldn't have to work on Maggie's Farm no more.

Well, she didn't pledge her undying devotion to me, but beggars can't be choosers. Maggie Gyllenhall (as the new and mind-meltingly lovely Rachel Dawes) announced today her support for the Harvey Dent campaign.

Considering Bruce Wayne's modest infatuation with this fine work of woman, I have to wonder if this could cause any complications with Dent's future. Perhaps it may lead to a situation where he is forced to bear us another side of himself, one the citizens of Gotham City haven't seen before? I suppose we'll see.

And hey Maggie, listen. If things don't work out with this bozo...seriously, you have my number.

I know how this looks.

The cover of this movie has DATE MOVIE written all over it. Well, aside from the fact that the words "date movie" aren't REALLY written anywhere, but you get the point.

Let's do the math; Mandy Moore, flowers in the sky, a boy and a girl sitting on a couch in complimentary lighting, and not to mention a boring, one word title. Check please.

But whoa whoa whoa, wait a sec homeslice. Yea, I guess you could tag it as a 'date movie'.... but only in the sense that Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind and Science of Sleep are. This movie is fantastic!

Billy Crudup is the anti date movie hero right off the bat. He's a misguided children's book writer who is as snide and brash as they come against any and all women that he comes across, especially Moore. He loves monster movies. Is open, honest, terrified to ride in cars, and looks for inspiration for his children books in strip clubs and porno theatres, and his only friend is a dead guy who he continues to talk to at great length. His performance is fantastic and his friendship with Tom Wilkinson is pure magic. The 2 make a better pair than, you know, the boy and the girl.

The movie slows up towards the end, and becomes a little idiosyncratic love story, but as a whole the movie is totally enjoyable, unique, comedic, and bashfully cute, my friends. And who can shy away from a movie with a soundtrack composed by Deerhoof? Not me.

It marks Justin Theroux's first shot at shooting flicks, instead of acting in em. Hat's off. And it seems he has plenty more up his sleeve. He co-wrote the upcoming Tropic Thunder with Ben Stiller which is beginning to generate a really excellent amount of buzz thanks in part to a black Mr. Downey Jr. Tell me THIS poster does not make you want to be at a movie theatre on August 15, 2008. Tell me.

In other wildly unrelated news, The New Kids On The Block are coming back to the block. Their newness, however, is a bit in question.

This week's YouTube Monday is presented to you without it's usual arty graphic to indicate that it's YouTube Monday. Why? because I'm at war with the internets today and so far, I'm losing. But hey, here's your video. It's simple; a complacently-expressioned dude with musical talent in the crevice of his hands. Dig it!

After endorsing Mr. Dent in his campaign to clean up Gotham last week, our Scene & Heard offices have been absolutely FLOODED with campaign propaganda and press materials from Dent's team. Posters, buttons, stickers. The whole cow and a carton of milk, if you will. We actually have Mercury employees trying to hop their carcasses on our Save Gotham bandwagon and clawing some of these Dent items from our possession (someone tell them to follow reality's campaigns please. We got the comic book elections covered, thank you very much!)

Well today, a new newspaper was brought to my attention, and I'm gonna send them my resume off to them today, see if they could use an entertainment writer or promotions guy. I'd be happy to help Dent in his bid to clean Gotham up! Not to mention, I'd do anything to see more of Heath Ledger's Joker right now. If that means walking into the storm, so be it.

So don't mind me, I'm just going to now post the trailer for The Dark Knight for about the 3rd time I've done on this blog now.

Tune up your 6-string air guitars duders, the long-fabled return of San Dimas' most non-heinous time traveling rock gods still has a chance of happening, according to this article. I'm of course talking about Bill and Ted. And as you no doubt know, together they are... WYLD STALLYNS!

(The above linkage also confirms that the original Bill and Ted flick IS being remade with new young and virile Bill and Teds traveling through time and failing school. Which sounds cool, but if you take this post for what it's worth, it sounds non non heinous. Atomic Gorillas? Ugh..)

A third installment in the series has been something of an urban legend for years, ever since Bill S Preston Esquire and Ted Theodore Logan conquered Satan, death, "the evil robot us's" and their complete lack of musical ability to save the world with their music in Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey. But then Keanu Reeves totally renounced sequels until he started traveling with phone booths again in The Matrix. And then there was like no script that anyone involved liked anyway.

My mind is already steaming. An aged Bill and Ted? How could this play out? Would they still be listening to Poison and Winger? Would they still be leading the world by singing Kiss anthems? Or would they have gone indie-or worse-emo? Would they mind that Wayne and Garth of Wayne's World were the 90's Nirvana grunge Jam ripoff of them? Well, if Indiana Jones can do it.. if The Police can do it.. if the Spice Girls can do it.. if John Rambo and Rocky Balboa can do it.. why can't Rufus and the Stallyns return most triumphantly?

Now, there are those who have stopped listening to my thoughts on movies after I told them Bill and Ted easily rank in my top favs. But what do you expect? I love any movie that deals with time travel or dudes using music to save the world. And Bill and Ted are the best of both worlds.

That's one step in the phone booth. Now, all I ask is that we bring back the cereal that none of you remember. And if you do, you're my soul mate and I have to ask where you've been all my life.

I always know April Fools Day is coming. But when the big prank day finally shutters in, I forget about it until after I get fooled. I read stories like this, and start cursing at my computer. Then I have to sit there, think about it. Before long, it comes to me. CRAP, I got fooled AGAIN. Then I shuffle through my iPod to find The Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again" and pump it loud to let the world know I'm not gonna be taken down by these stupid stories again. I'll be ready next year.

For more breaking April Fool's stories of the music biz, check out Aversion.com. My favorite would be the one about Radiohead making plans to announce something enigmatic in the near unspecific future.

In other news, I'm awesome. (I'll let you be the judge of whether that's a well-timed prank, or the truth.)

I really don't have a reason for today's Top Five outside of my enthusiastic admiration for Bill Murray. It's time my top five high-fived the only old dude I can identify with in just about any role he plays. I especially dig his more recent dramatic roles, even though such movies as a whole kinda fell flat (see Broken Flowers, Life Aquatic).

He's a roar even when he sits there with that sad snarky look in his eyes and wacky white hair (see Royal Tannenbaum's for the ultimate dry Murray performance). You know there's some zany Venkman cockiness ready to just explode through his sad-eyed dry wit at any moment's notice. With every role, even in Caddyshack, he has played the perfect wacko goofball going through something profound. Robin Williams and Jim Carrey often try this, and get applauded for it, but neither do it with the genuine style of Murray.

But enough with the praising, let's do the list. As movies, these aren't the most necessary things to see. I'm leaving out Stripes, Meatballs and CaddyShack because I said so. They might be funnier than these movies here, yea, but ultimate Murray? Eh. You are cutting your hem lines short for missing the Murray of THESE movies. Don't do that!

5. The Whipmaster
Okay, cheated already. This isn't a movie at all. But it's a Scene & Heard favorito! Scope this SNL clip post haste, holmes.




4. Space Jam
This was more cameo than role, but who didn't flip their wig when we saw Bill Murray romping around with Porky Pig and his airness, Michael Jordan, on the hardwood against cartoon hoop dunkin' monsters?

3. Lost In Translation
No one has lips more bovine than Scarlett Johansen. But the tension between her and Murray in this clever lil' flick about understanding was remarkable. The unspoken and sublime themes of this film made it much more than a movie about an old guy meeting a young girl in a bar in Tokyo. Not to mention, Murray aced it here. He was as sad and lost as he was willing to let go and put some color back in his life. It's like the old white man's "How Stella Got Her Groove Back."

2. Ghostbusters
If I have to write some cleverly worded explanation as to why Murray pwns this flick, you should close your web browser, turn your computer off, leave your home, go out to a secluded field, and lay there for a very long time. While you're there, try re-thinking your life.

1. Groundhog Day
Just as Murray relives the same day, day after day, waking up to that cheesy Sonny and Cher song, this is a movie you can relive again and again with him. Who knew anyone could make a landmark movie in Punxatawny, PA?