“Why in god’s name is Sinéad O’Connor opening for Pavement?”
Most bands could benefit from the addition of Bob Nastanovich.
Monkeymen all in business suits
Teachers and critics all dance the Poot
Are we not men?
God made man but he used a monkey to do it
Apes in the plan, we’re all here to prove it
I can walk like an ape, talk like an ape
I can do what monkeys do
God made man but monkeys supplied the glue
In 2001 I was living in Olympia, WA and I couldn’t get a job. To be honest I wasn’t trying that hard (my Starbucks application was full of in-jokes that only my best friend and bandmate—who was also applying—would understand). Anyway, I eventually got desperate enough that I ended up getting a job at a telemarketing company in neighboring Tumwater called Livebridge. I did a couple days of training and only a couple more days actually making the calls. My…
A cinematic six-gun (woefully relegated to the domesticated shadow box—but a tip of the ol’ ten gallon to the digital proprietors for spending the silver to mine this claim in the first) loaded with all manner of varmints, each aimin’ their respective sights on the profound or the profane of this prairie we call home. A renowned revue as comfortable speculating on the iniquities of man as it is chewin’ the cud simply for cud’s sake.
Surprised by how brutal this is from the start with a theme song that promises “hate, murder, revenge”. It delivers.
Arthur Kennedy is the weak link here with co-leads Dietrich and Mel Ferrer bringing real nuance and pathos to their characters while Kennedy mostly just glowers.