Why Alice is not Tim Burton’s Alice

Even most of the OST smells like a different director

The Dormouse tells The White Rabbit, “You’ve got the wrong Alice,” but you know it’s the right one. The trouble is, by the end of the film, you don’t know if it’s the right Tim Burton. Sure, the characters are great, they are real. The lines sound like Lewis Carroll. Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter are dazzling, Anne Hathaway and Stephen Fry a delight. Even the 3D thing (a complete waste of time, if you ask me) works wonderfully at times (like when Alice falls through the rabbit whole).

But it’s just not Tim Burton. There’s no epicness, his imagination seems very limited. It’s as if he lost himself in Underworld and can’t find himself. Sure, he had his own take on Wonderworld but Underworld is not gloomy enough to be considered a Burton product. It’s not quirky enough either. And the music adds to the lack of Burton-ness. A short description: nothing, nothing, crap, nothing, Avril Lavigne.

The official score is bland (why Danny Elfman was on the credits, beats me). But what’s beyond sad is the music inspired by the film. If you thought Avril Lavigne was sinking low, wait until seven. Yes, Tokio Hotel. I forgot to mention, I puked a bit in my mouth between tracks one and seven: Owl City, All Time Low, Metro Station… and Shinedown. For some reason or another All-American Rejects pulled the track off. Which isn’t something I can say about 3OH!3. And then some more blandness with Plain White T’s, Mark Hoppus and Kerli (why, oh, why?).

There are some bands that do it wonderfully: in short, Robert Smith and the last four acts on the cd (Franz Ferdinand, Motion City Soundtrack, Wolfmother and Grace Potter and The Nocturnals). Franz Ferdinand are mostly delicious and Robert Smith’s song is so quirky (both are so-so Burton as a matter of fact) you actually wonder why in the world Tim Burton didn’t ask them to write the whole official score. Go on, just listen to Smith’s Very Good Advice and Franzie’s The Lobster Quadrille. Don’t take my word for it, you’ll believe me anyways after you hear them.

And why weren’t Hatcham Social asked to give permission for their song Jabberwocky to be used on the soundtrack?

Enough With The Moaning

I heavily dislike this period. Several reasons (all the commercial Xmas stuff etc) actually among which a rather painful one: the fact that as the year ends and January kicks in (ok, some days into the new year) I am one year older, one year closer to being forced to become a responsible adult (I mean, no one actually shoves this down my throat, but I don’t want to end up being a 30-something year-old who dances to ‘Bare Necessities’ at weddings).

But this really isn’t about me, it’s about the end of the year. This being 2009, let’s call this the end of the decade in capitals. Woho! And what do we get as the year (decade in this case) ends? Yes, lists. Best of lists. And, no, this isn’t about some hate I have for such lists. Because, you see, I am one of those weird people who hate lavender and love rose-scented soaps and also love end of the year lists. I don’t care who did it, who put it together, if it’s a list/top we’re talking about, I want to read it. Why? Because it shows what people like, what magazines staffs actually listen to blablabla. Yeah, it’s about opinions (that, according to Larry Flint, are like asshole, we all have one).

What I actually hate is the constant moaning. “Oh, your bands suck, my band is the best and you are all gay”. This sort of things. And the typical ‘Who do you think you are to say which song was the best?’ You know all the lines. They’re used every single year by, I like to believe, the same constant group of virgins.

Here’s news for all of those complaining. Usually, the magazine that does those lists states that this is the best of list as voted by fill in the blanks with staff/artists/etc. So, shouldn’t it be clear that it’s just an opinion, an opinion on a given subject you’ll like or dislike? Lists are not shitty, just view on who is better are different.

It’s like the whole thing with reviews and journalism in general. You know it’s biased or subjective. We give you the impression it’s not, but you have to be an idiot to think this, what we write, is impartial and not influenced in the slightest bit by what we like, what we’ve been through, by our own point of view. Sure, when I write a review I might pretend the world loves or hates the album, but you and me both know it’s just me who loves it.

The same with ‘Best of’ lists. ‘Best Of’ or “Greatest” are used to give the impression of, well, being not so subjective. But it is. Incredibly subjective, actually. Music is something really subjective and we all know that any music fanatic (including myself) has a bad habit of thinking or saying their favourite tracks are the best ever and no one else is entitled to a different opinion (usually the ‘You’re gay’ argument comes in).

So, for once, let’s stop moaning and let’s just admit that all these lists are just a means by which music journalists tell you what they thought was really great that year/decade. Don’t worry, you can still listen to your favourite band and think they are the best and the rest suck. No one’s telling you that you can’t.

She Talks Too Much In Maths

To cover a song is such a difficult job for an artist. Of course it's an interesting experience to make people hear another interpretation of their favourite songs (at least that's what I think). But, and especially if it's a very well known song, eventually people will start to compare your version with the original. And I must say that usually the original version of the song wins. That's the way it is and it can't be changed. Anyway, sometimes the cover version is at least as good as the original, if not better. Tainted Love, the cover Marilyn Manson made after Soft Cell's song, or Placebo's Running Up That Hill (sang originally by Kate Bush) stand as proof.

That's why I am always interested to hear covers. And that's why I decided to listen to Eliza Lumley's covers of Radiohead's songs. I knew already, even before listening to her, that she was either praised or criticised for these versions – and I became really curious, asking myself how I would react. I'm not much of a Radiohead fan, I don't know all of their songs, I haven't listened to all of their albums, but I love the songs I listened to up until now, and I love Thom Yorke's voice. That made me even more impatient.

Among the songs I listened to were Karma Police, Street Spirit, How To Disappear Completely and Let Down – four of the most beautiful songs Radiohead have. Eliza Lumley sings accompanied by piano (which does an excellent job). She has a pure, high and clear voice, and she sings perfectly. Now probably you'd expect me to say that she's just wonderful and she is one of the artists who make cover versions as good as the original. Well, no. Even if it seems she has all the advantages on her side, she completely fails.

And if you want to know why, well, the answer is simple. Her covers are just too perfect. Preoccupied with singing as well as possible, Lumley completely forgets to put some feelings in her voice, she sings like she would resolve some math problems, coldly and cerebrally (actually the title of her album is She Talks In Maths, and now that I listened to her songs, I find it very ironical). I must say that this is the first time I have listened to Street Spirit without feeling the need to cry. Don’t get me wrong. The girl is not bad; I already said before that her voice is good. But music is not only about how well you sing, just like painting is not only about how well you draw. Music (and not only music, but all that means art) is about how you feel and about how you make the others feel. As far as I'm concerned, Mary Had a Little Lamb sang by a four year old kid is much more impressive than Lumley's so called perfect songs.

And now back to Radiohead.

About fans and rock bands

I’ve recently attended an Editors gig. Perhaps the band is irrelevant. I just felt like mentioning it. The gig was ok, in case you were wondering. Yes, ok. Thing is, after the gig, I posted a little innocent comment on Lastfm about how it was ok but there was something missing and how it was a pain in the ass to wait around for three hours not knowing when the gig was going to start. And I realised there are way too many people out there who think one should go to a gig after 9 pm (no matter what the ticket says). In what universe?

And then it struck me why the gig was just ok. There was no build-up before the actual concert. And I’m not talking about the warm-up music, opening-act blabla yadda yadda. No. I’m talking about the fans. See, I’m used to fanaticism. As someone once told me: ‘I was raised to believe that obsessing about your favourite rock bands is the only acceptable way’. And this includes concerts.

I have a small ritual before each gig. I triple-check the entry hour and the hour at which it’s supposed to start. I change a billion outfits in order to find the one that’s comfy enough, hip enough and includes pockets. I make sure everything I need fits in my tiny bag. And, naturally, I go to the concert venue some three hours before. Why? Cause it’s fun! It makes me incredibly happy sitting in a queue (or not) with a bunch of other fans who also want to hump the fence. It gives me chills when I hear the sound check. There is nothing in the world like that feeling I get when I see they’re letting us in and I know I’ll be front row (even if I have to kill a bunch of innocents). This is how all fans should behave. Otherwise, you cannot be considered a fan. And I for one will find the gig lame, boring, no fun. Or just ok, like the Editors gig. Because there were no signs of fanaticism before the actual gig. So maybe the band can’t make people feel that way. Or the fans are just not … fans. Real, hardcore ones. Either ways, it ruins the whole gig. We need the whole package.

Just to make it clear. Editors were great. During the concert, there was a great vibe. The audience was clearly enjoying every moment. Well, us people in the front rows. I can’t guarantee for the people in the back. But there was nothing before. No blood, sweat or tears (my sweat, other people’s blood and tears) were spilled so that people would get as close to the stage as possible. Most people turned up after 8 pm. There were chairs so there was this chillin’ in a backyard vibe. The venue was in a park so some though a walk (or a beer or a swing in the playground) would be a better idea than waiting inside the venue. And I didn’t feel like I was attending a concert!

And, in all honesty, beside all the things that get me off, there’s this thing called respect. For the bands playing and the people organizing the whole thing. You own it to them to be there in time. And, hey, let’s face it. The majority of bands starts playing at the time specified on the ticket/posters/etc. Because they too tend to respect the crowd and/or think some might depend on at least the last bus/tram/tube. That is, if they have any decency.