Your Daily Podcast

Last year, I reviewed a horror movie each day throughout October. I was going to do that again, but then I thought ‘I should spread the word about some of the podcasts I enjoy.’ So I’m doing that. Every day, I will give you a quick look at a show I like, and you will read it, because you know my taste is better than yours.

Podcasts are audio (and sometimes video) programs distributed via the Internet. Many people don’t know much about them, and so they don’t listen. Here are some myths about podcasts:

1. “You need an iPod to listen to them.” No. You can listen on any digital device, computer, and even burn them to CD. Same goes for iTunes; it’s handy, but there are other options for Applephobes.
2. “Podcasts are only for nerds.” While nerds were the first to embrace podcasting, that’s only because it involves computers. If you listen to podcasts, people will think you are super-cool.
3. “Podcasts have terrible sound quality.” Yes. Many do. But the good ones don’t, and I will only be talking about the good ones. Somewhere out there is a podcast about podcasting, done by two guys trying to speak English and not succeeding. That is not the sort of show I will be discussing. You can thank me later.
4. “Radio is better.” In some ways, sure. If you want breaking news or some good driving music, sure, click on the radio. But podcasts are tailored to your interests; if you like Star Trek, there’s a show for you. If you like golf, there’s a show for you. If you’re into obscure Hungarian amateur midget bondage video, please keep that to yourself, because I don’t want to picture that.
5. “Listening to podcasts will make me stupid.” That not troo, what mean it?

Declaration of bias: I am associated with a specific podcast company based in the U.K., and I will be telling you a lot about them, because we are the best podcasts in the universe, except for one of them.

For those horror movie reviews, click on Black October to your right. Now I’m going to try to think of a catchy name for this series in an attempt to take my mind off Hungarian midget bondage porn. Podtober? Octopod? Janos Does Svetlana? Ouch.

Close Encounters

These retired military types held a press conference today to discuss UFO reports around American nuclear sites. In unrelated news, The Event is a new TV series about aliens living secretly in America.

Lost + V x (24 + BSG) = The Event. That’s not to say I’m not enjoying it. But it had better spark something unique over the next few episodes to keep the momentum established in the pilot. I don’t watch TV, remember? It has to rock the house for me to stick with it. On that note, I gave up halfway through the new Hawaii Five-O last night, because an old copy of Wolfenstein 3D was more interesting.

Computer Games: The Cogswell Effect

I just spent the last hour killing Nazis, zombies and a giant robot Hitler. That was me, playing a computer game.

So, a brief recap: a few weeks ago, I bought a first-generation iMac for $20, mostly because the guy selling it offered to throw in a flat-screen monitor for the G4 tower I was also taking off his hands. Running OS 9.2, the iMac is a speedy little machine, no great performer, but still an interesting conversation piece, especially parked in my basement lab/studio/geek museum.

The kids were fascinated by it, and after I loaded it up with Myth: The Fallen Lords, Wolfenstein 3D and a pile of old Atari games, it got about a half hour of attention from them before they started thinking about the Wii again. And so, iMac has been sitting here on my desk, beside my other Macs, just being green. Because Bondi Blue was green. Sorry, but you know that’s true.

And then I remembered a strange package I received from the mighty Cogs, a listener who has sent me some … interesting packages. In one mailing, which included electron X-ray machine filaments, a book about Tsetse flies, his old parking pass and a picture of Bea Arthur with hearts drawn all around it, he also included a CD-ROM from Mac Addict magazine, dated Dec. 96.

• The odds are good that I had this CD-ROM when it came out, as this would have been issued during the time that I owned a Mac LC 475 and bought Mac Addict regularly. However, the LC 475 did not have a CD-ROM drive.

So I popped the disk into the iMac, and discovered a pile of OS9 freeware, shareware and demos that reminded me that I played a fair number of early Mac games back in the ’80s and ’90s, like the one where you had to push bags of money around, and that Tron ripoff, and, of course, Wolfenstein 3D, the original shooter. This version has a pile of add-ons, which flashed me back to Monday nights in the mid-90s, when my then-wife would play volleyball with the girls and I would stay home, tinkering with my Mac and playing W3D.

And that’s what I did tonight. Rockin’ music. Fun game. Good memories. The Cogswell Effect.

About That Ian Astbury Thing …

I received this in my comment section today:

• Gimme a break man, ‘cupcakes are wrong, they do not mix with rock’. Astbury still rocks and still has one of the best rock-voices ever. If you dont like to see him being ‘pussy-whipped’, just dont watch this and play his records! He is in balance: on stage rocking, off stage being himself and loving his woman. Cheers Ian! — Michael

This is in response to an article, something I wrote a couple of years ago. And it got me thinking, reading it again today, that I was, perhaps, too hard on Ian Astbury and his cupcakes.

Read the original, then come back.

Ian Astbury fronts The Cult, my favourite rock band. Period. His music has been played more times than anything else I own. (You would think this would make Ian my favourite singer, but that’s actually Elvis. Ian’s up there, though.)

Back when I still owned vinyl, I had every album up to Sonic Temple, every EP, every single, every remix. My memorabilia box would probably fetch me some serious eBay coin, except it burned in the fire — kind of fitting, considering it contained at least one Fire Woman metal badge. And also lots of Billy Duffy’s guitar picks. This still pisses me off.

And so I feel kind of bad that I made fun of Ian Astbury and his cupcake love. Especially with new music out, two rocking tracks that prove The Cult may age, but their power, their energy, just gets better with time.

The new album, a “capsule,” is a mini-recording, self-released, and produced by Chris Goss, the mastermind behind one of my other favourite bands, Masters of Reality. Goss also produced Astbury’s underappreciated solo album, which has some amazing not-quite-Cult-but-amazing tracks on it. I bought Steve Jones’ Fire and Gasoline, for crying out loud. Oh, and I still play that Holy Barbarians album regularly, too, and the song he did on Slash’s solo CD this year is my favourite on the record.

In other words, Ian Astbury is my hero. And so, tonight, I ate a cupcake. It had pink icing and a plastic Thomas the Tank Engine stuck to it. It was very sweet, and while I didn’t feel very rock ’n’ roll, I enjoyed every bite.

You rock, Ian Astbury. Sorry I made fun of your cupcakes.

Buy his new music here (in several formats, including on USB sticks, which is monstrously cool). Also, here’s some old stuff you may not know, but should.

Joy Division: In Control

I have a difficult time with movies that I know will feature suicide, so I’ve resisted my interest in Control, Anton Corbijn’s biopic of Joy Division singer Ian Curtis. Last night, I finally gave in, largely because I got the movie from the library, and I’ll watch anything that’s free, which is how I ended up seeing Ghosts of Girlfriends Past.

The movie is quite good. It’s shot in Corbijn’s perfect grey, a very British black-and-white that captures the dreary ’70s and early ’80s in all its unwashed, woolen damp. The music, performed by the actors, is spot-on, and the story, while called “largely made up” by Joy Division guitarist Bernard Sumner, is quick and interesting, and paints the gritty counterpoint to 24 Hour Party People, a less serious look at the same era.

I wasn’t crazy about the leads. Young actor Sam Reilly plays Curtis, and does fairly well, but he plays Curtis as very clear-eyed and dominant, failing to capture the trembly, watery-eyed look the singer made his own. And Samantha Morton, a fine actress, looks just a touch too old for the part. I can forgive that, though, as she’s a tremendous talent, even when she’s a bald naked telepath soaking in Tom Cruise’s moon pool.

What this movie drove home for me, or reminded me, rather, is the pivotal role Curtis and his band played in the growth of modern music. Joy Division was the critical link between punk, post-punk and what would come to be called alternative rock, and there are few bands who don’t owe a credit of some sort to the band. This means you, emo kids.

A fine film, and an interesting walk through the music of a band I need to listen to again. Love Will Tear Us Apart: one of the best songs ever sung.

Toys of the ’70s: Big Jim

I loved Big Jim, and I know I had several, and at one time had the camper van. Big Jim was an adventure and sports hero before becoming a superspy with the Big Jim PACK, a series I really liked; I had the Corvette with the laser cannon in the hood.

Looking back now, though, I have to wonder what Mattel thought was good for little boys. I mean, check out these characters: Big Jim’s in the middle, flanked by his homeboys Dr. Steel, Big Jeff, Big Jack and Big Jake. Dr. Steel? What sport did he play, golf? Why are they standing around in their underwear, flexing and posing? Are they auditioning for the Sears catalog? And why were all those guys in the Sears catalog standing around in their underwear, exchanging Christmas presents?

The coolest thing about Big Jim figures were the arms; they were made of a complicated plastic springs-and-gears frame with rubber skin; bend the arm, and the biceps flexed.

I usually stripped the rubber off, revealing the hydraulic arms, and made him into Steve Austin, because I always liked Steve Austin better. You never saw Steve and Oscar standing around in satin shorts. Nor would you want to, I guess.

“Ball included.” I’ll bet it was.